still with hearts beating
by bravevulnerability
Summary: Her heart was still in jagged pieces after the summer. The sequel to 'still our hands match'. Takes place throughout season 3. AU. Cover art by ournorthstars.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Although not completely necessary, I'd highly recommend reading the prequel (_still our hands match_) before beginning this story.**

* * *

_"And I can't help but to run my fingers down your spine,_

_like you are my favorite book._

_But I still cannot read you,_

_you are your own language._

_Your pages are tired and torn,_

_but I want you,_

_I want it all."_

_-Like A Book, Michelle K._

* * *

The call from dispatch was a welcome distraction. Although she knew she should feel guilt for craving a murder, doing her job was so much better than sitting bored in the bullpen, watching Esposito and Ryan tiptoe around her in fear of saying the wrong thing. It had been a summer long dance they had been doing and she was tired of her colleagues walking on eggshells any time the mention of her ex came up.

The boys no longer spoke to him, treating him like a traitor, and while grateful for their never failing support, Kate wished she hadn't been the sole reason for the enforced silent treatment.

The examination of their crime scene and quick interview with their victim's boyfriend led them to an apartment in Tribeca, their first potential lead, but when they arrived at Maya Santori's apartment, the front door had been opened and they could hear movement from inside the building. Beckett, Ryan, and Esposito slipped past the front entrance, did a sweep of the first room, finding it clear, and Kate signaled to her partners before advancing forward, deeper into the apartment towards the noise coming from the closed door ahead. The three exchanged nods and Kate kicked the bedroom door open, directed the man they walked in on to put his hands in the air.

The situation had been completely under control until the intruder turned around.

"_Castle_?" she stated incredulously, watching as the man in front of her stiffened in surprise.

She hadn't missed him – not at all – but her body still froze at the sight of him after three months, her stomach still flared with instinctual heat in response to his presence, and the shock of meeting again reflected in his eyes, setting them alight with pleasant surprise.

She hadn't missed him.

"Kate?" he breathed, a smile almost curling his lips upwards, but her carefully aimed gun quickly wiped any trace of pleased recognition from his face.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she hissed, lowering her weapon just slightly, but glancing over her shoulder and silently warning the boys to keep theirs raised and ready. Castle turned towards her, prepared to explain, but when he did, she immediately noticed the gun still in his hand.

"Put it down," she snapped, the boys joining in, demanding he lower the weapon while he stood glancing between the three of them in confusion.

"Whoa, whoa, okay!" he exclaimed, cautiously setting the gun on the floor. "It's not what it looks like. Kate-"

"It never is," she muttered, striding forward and turning him by the shoulders. She clicked the cuffs closed around his wrists, did her best not to touch his skin. "Richard Castle, you are under arrest for murder."

* * *

Ryan and Esposito led him away, out of the apartment and towards the building's exit, but his head kept swiveling to look over his shoulder, to catch a glimpse of her trailing behind them, and she diverted her eyes every time.

He rode with the boys to the precinct, knew they would set him up in interrogation for her, and she was grateful for the time to herself. She needed it if she was going to face him after what had happened over the summer.

Her heart was still in jagged pieces after the summer.

At the station, everyone gave her encouraging nods and sympathetic eyes, making her want to disappear into the ground, but she merely strode through the homicide floor to interrogation room 1, where Esposito had told her Castle was being held.

He was just another suspect, just another unexpected part of the job. This was in no way personal.

Beckett glided inside without looking at him, dropped the case file on the table between them and pulled out her chair with ease.

"You've been informed of your rights, Mr. Castle?" she questioned coolly, folding her hands in front of her and awaiting his response.

"Really? This is how we're playing things?" he answered, half amused, half disbelieving.

"You are aware you're under arrest for murder?" she replied calmly, doing her best to keep them on track. She could not let things become unprofessional with him, not here.

"And I thought you were being rough with the cuffs just for fun," he mused, arching an eyebrow at her, and she glared sternly at him while silently praying he wouldn't bring up how they actually had used her handcuffs for fun in the past. Not when her colleagues were sitting behind the glass. "You let your hair grow out," he said a little softer, his eyes warm and roaming her face. She vehemently ignored the way he still made her stomach flutter. "You look good, Kate."

"You look good too," she murmured, her lips tilting upwards, before quickly catching herself and adding more seriously, "For murder."

"Why are you so mad at me?"

The anger flared hotly in her chest and it took everything she had to rein it back in, to remind herself this _wasn't _about what had happened between them nearly three months ago. Murder, case, crime scene – he had been at a crime scene.

"Maybe because you were found standing over a dead body with a gun in your hand."

"Yeah, but I told you she was dead when I got there," he said simply and she dug her nails into her palm.

"Why didn't you call?"

He looked slightly taken aback at that and took a moment to smooth his hands out over the surface of the table, going over his words in his head.

"I was going to call you," he began to explain, his voice in a calm, placating tone. "But then you showed up before I could."

"Really? Well, then why did we find you in our victim's apartment?"

"Well, because she called me."

"Oh, so you and Miss Santori were in a _relationship_?" she surmised, the last word like bile on her tongue because if he had been sleeping with this woman-

Castle narrowed his eyes at her. "I bought a couple sculptures from her."

"Were you sleeping with her?" she asked bluntly, watching his eyes widen incredulously.

"How is that relevant?"

"Motive."

"Ah," he murmured, unconvinced. "No, I was not sleeping with her."

"Are you sure?" Kate pushed, sensing that she was hitting a nerve already and unable to stop. "Beautiful woman, single man…"

"I just came out of a very serious relationship," he answered tightly, leaning in towards her. "If you must know, I haven't been sleeping with anyone since."

She nodded, tampering down the stupid relief that rushed through her system. She didn't care who he slept with. He could sleep with whomever he wanted. The more, the merrier.

She proceeded to question Castle about why the hell he had been at their victim's apartment, knowing for a fact he hadn't killed the woman, but having to listen to his side of the story nonetheless. It was when Roy interrupted them, pulled her aside and showed her the gun that shot their victim was not the gun Castle had been holding, that she was finally able to release him.

"So what's our next move?" Castle quipped, already on her heels as she headed back into the bullpen.

"There isn't one, at least not for you. You're going home."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Two victims, one of them an acquaintance of mine, and you're sending me home?"

"You're a witness, Castle," she sighed tiredly. "I can't have you involved."

"I'm already involved," he protested, snagging her writst and she spun on her heel, ripped her arm from his grasp.

"Rick, go home. You-"

"I don't want to go home. I want to be here, I want to be with you," he said quietly but fiercely, his words surprising and knocking the wind from her lungs, and she took a step closer to him, if only to keep onlookers from overhearing the privacy of their conversation.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" It came out quietly, uninhibited, and she knew the moment it registered for him, the unmistakable whisper of hurt in her voice, but she continued before he could answer her. "If you had wanted to come back, to _be with me_, you wouldn't have let me leave the Hamptons in the summer. You wouldn't have walked away when I tried to explain-"

"I asked you to marry me, Kate," he argued roughly. "Did you expect me to just bounce back when you turned me down?"

"No, but I didn't expect you to storm off like a twelve year old either. Maybe if you had been willing to hear me out, my answer would have changed by now." She hadn't meant to say that, to reveal so much, but her retort shocked him into momentary silence, and Kate took the opportunity to end this.

"Go home, Castle. I've got work to do."

She left him standing in the middle of the room and forced herself not to look back until she knew the elevator doors had closed behind him.

* * *

Castle kept conversation with his mother and daughter short when he returned home to the loft, excusing himself to his bedroom as soon as he walked through the door. He was still reeling from seeing her again, from being rejected by her again.

Part of him hated Kate Beckett. Just a little, because she made it impossible to truly despise her, especially when he was admittedly the one in the wrong this time. He couldn't hate the woman who had walked away from him, yet still made the time to take his daughter out to lunch and attend his mother's plays whenever she got the chance. If anything, he should be grateful to her, for treating his family with such respect despite what had happened between the two of them.

Castle plopped down on his bed, tugged open the top drawer of his nightstand, rummaged around until his fingers skidded across the familiar outline of the framed photo he had tucked away after they had ended things. He sighed and leant back into his headboard, stared down at the picture Alexis had taken in the beginning of the summer when they had all gone to the Hamptons together, when things had been easier and they were happy.

He had originally only invited Beckett to attend for Memorial Day weekend, knowing she no longer had as many vacation days after her apartment had been blown to pieces months before. But she had managed to get the week off and spent it on the beach with him and his family.

In the photo, she was in a pretty white sundress, her hair in a loose ponytail, brightened by the sun, just like her skin, and her hand was intertwined with his as they walked the beach together. The shot had been taken at a slight distance, Alexis attempting to be discrete in her photography, but if he squinted, he could still see the way her eyes had shone with the sunset as she looked up at him. It had been the day before he had asked her, the day before she had said no. And maybe he had overreacted when she had rejected him, his heart sore and his pride wounded, and maybe he could have stayed to listen to her when she tried to back up the hesitant _Castle, I just don't think it's the right time yet_ she had whispered while lowering to her knees in front of him on the moonlit balcony outside his bedroom. But he had snapped the little blue box closed, slipped it back into his pocket and walked away before she could say any more. Before he could register the _yet _that had followed her gentle refusal.

She hadn't wanted to hurt him and he knew that, but at the time, he had felt scorned and had definitely not recovered by the time she had decided to leave that same night, driving back to the city alone. He had tried calling her the next morning, after he had slept off the disaster of an evening alone in their bed, but she didn't answer. She didn't answer for weeks, and when she finally did, she tonelessly told him to stop calling her, that there was nothing to talk about, and they hadn't spoken since. Until today, that is.

Kate had said at the precinct that she would have said yes. Basically. If he would have waited, if he would have tried to understand her side of things, in time, she would have said yes. He had screwed up, he regretted it, but there had never been a moment since that fateful day in the summer that he hadn't wished for her, wanted her back with an aching intensity.

He had a lot to make up for, but if he could convince her to give him another chance, he would work as hard as he could to show her how sorry he was. And how much he still loved her.

* * *

"Are you kidding me?" she growled the next day when Castle was found at their crime scene _again_.

"Just listen to me," he began, but she released a mirthless laugh as she retrieved her cuffs from her belt. Again.

"Why? You don't listen to me?"

She stalked forward, arguing with him over his presence, the cuffs lifted like a barrier between them until they entered the next room and his back bumped into an empty vending machine.

"Look, Castle, I'm sorry about your friend, I really am, but that doesn't mean you can just show up and act like nothing's happened. The truth is, is if you wanted to come back, you would've already, but you didn't. So, let's just face it, the only reason that you're here right now is because you were at the wrong place at the wrong time," she summed up, but suddenly Castle was cupping her face in his hands, holding her eyes too seriously despite the presence of the boys in the next room.

"Do you know what these bodies are? A sign."

She swatted his hands away, her cheeks tingling from the warmth of his palms.

"A sign?" she parroted back dubiously.

"A sign. A sign from the universe telling us we need to solve this case together. You don't want to let the universe down, do you?"

Kate exhaled a frustrated breath through her nose, shook her head and placed her fingers at her temples.

"You're not going to go away no matter what I do, are you?"

"I respect the universe," he said with a shrug. "And I love you."

Her heart stopped at the second part of his nonchalant explanation, her body shuddering subtly as her skin broke out in a cold sweat. Richard Castle was the only man she had ever known who had the ability to throw her off with such ease. He knew which buttons to push, which wounds to poke at, which words could bring her to her knees and turn her head upside down.

"No," she murmured, adamantly shaking her head against him and those treacherous words. "No, you don't get to do that."

"Do what? I'm telling you the truth. I love-"

"Castle," she snapped, anger and heartache and some ridiculous but familiar excitement bubbling altogether in her chest and making her dizzy. "You know what? Fine. I will let you join me on this one case, as long as you promise to do what I say when I say it, and not to do any investigating on your own."

He was already nodding eagerly, but she held up her index finger, not yet finished listing her terms and conditions.

"And you do not get to use our past to play with my emotions."

"Kate, that isn't-"

"Just – don't, okay? We can work a case together like before, but the rest of it? That's over. So just accept it."

She could already see in the flash of his blue eyes that he would do anything_ but_ accept that, but he still nodded once more, said what he needed to earn his temporary place back in her life. "I promise. You won't regret this."

She scoffed and pivoted away from him, towards the boys and the dead body on the couch. "I already do."

* * *

When they go to arrest Kitty and Earl just as the two were preparing to leave the country, Beckett's life was put in danger, and the instinct to protect her prevailed as he tackled her to the ground, both of them narrowly avoiding the bullet that whizzed past.

Castle had spun them, landing on his back so she wouldn't hit the concrete at full force, and for just a moment, before the frenzied chase for the two fleeing killers began, she looked down at him the way she used to, without the guarded steel in her eyes. But the moment was just that and then she was jumping up, directing Ryan and Esposito to go after Earl while she prepared to find Kitty.

"Stay here."

"Wait, what if they come back?" he questioned, but Kate merely handed him her backup piece, closing his fingers around it.

"Just be careful," she whispered before striding off in the opposite direction.

He ended up chasing Kitty out into the alley, where he was met with Beckett pointing a gun at him. He didn't have the time to tell her why he had his aimed at her in return, hated the confused furrow of her brow and shadow of doubt that fell across her face, but it was worth it when their guns fired in unison and took down both suspects in perfect synchronization.

* * *

They had made a bet in the middle of the case, a dangerous bet that could put him back in her life all too easily, and as they had worked the case together, effortlessly falling back into their familiar pattern of back and forth banter, she found that she wouldn't mind too terribly if he won his way back into the precinct. It was too much fun watching him light up with crazy theories, beaming when something finally clicked for him, and she didn't even realize she was allowing him to win the bet until it was too late.

"So, uh... I guess you won the bet."

"Yeah," he grinned before his smile quickly fell. "But look, if it's too much, if you don't want-"

"No, no, you won fair and square," she nodded, pursing her lips to smother a little smile as he watched her curiously.

"So," he murmured, taking just a small step closer to her. "See you tomorrow?"

"See you tomorrow," she confirmed, ducking her head when he leaned in to brush a quick kiss across her cheekbone before spinning happily on his heel and trotting away from her.

This wasn't what she had wanted, was probably the opposite of what she needed, but she had missed him too.

As long as he stayed away from her heart, there was a chance they could make this work.


	2. Chapter 2

Castle had known that after the summer there was a chance she would see other people, he had even attempted to mentally brace himself for it, but nothing could prepare him to see her walk away from him with someone else. Twice. Especially not in the same week.

First, it was her former training officer. The older man had seemed like a goldmine in the beginning, spilling stories about Officer Beckett from back in the day and showing Castle adorable pictures of her in her uniform, but then his time in the precinct turned from convenient to treacherous, and Rick had watched Kate's eyes fill with the betrayal Michael Royce had bestowed upon her, the ache of being used consuming her face for the rest of their case.

But hearing her profess her love to the other man, despite the feelings being from the past - that rattled him in a way he hadn't expected. She had played it off as an act to get a trace on Royce once the call ended, but he knew the raw quality of her voice, knew it was more than acting, and even as she walked away, he caught just the briefest glimpse of her face crumbling.

He followed her down the hallway, keeping his distance just long enough to catch up to her before she escaped into the privacy of the restroom. "Kate."

"Don't," she called over her shoulder once she realized he was trailing behind her into the women's bathroom. "Just go wait outside by the car, I'll be there in a second."

She had gone for drinks with her former training officer the night before and Castle had prickled with jealousy as he had watched the two walk away together when he wanted to be the only man she strolled out of the precinct with at the end of the day. He hadn't viewed Michael Royce as a threat, but had definitely picked up on the subtle hints of chemistry between the older man and Kate since he had shown up, knew more than a teacher/student relationship lay between them.

She had loved him once. All she had done on that phone call was confirm his suspicions.

"Kate," he sighed, standing patiently just inside the bathroom door as the gripped the edges of the countertop, staring down into the porcelain curve of the sink with pursed lips and hunched shoulders.

"What, Castle? What do you want me to say?" she muttered.

"You don't have to say anything, just…" He took a tentative step closer. "You weren't lying, when you spoke with Royce just now."

"No, for the most part, I wasn't. So what?" she snapped, turning on him with that defensive fire blazing in her eyes burning away the remnants of forming moisture. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"No," he murmured calmly, catching her wrist, smoothing his thumb in circles under the soft fabric of her cardigan and over the throbbing cadence of her pulse.

She swallowed hard and stole her hand back, returned to face the sink instead of him, crossing her arms tightly over her chest and chewing intently on her lower lip.

"He was around when no one else was," she whispered, surprising him because he truly had not expected her to open up this time. "He listened and understood, unlike anyone else at the time, but I wouldn't call what I felt for him love. Not anymore," she mumbled, her eyes falling back into the empty sink, as if it held all those memories from her past.

"I'm sorry, Kate," he murmured, placing a gentle hand between her shoulder blades, fanning his fingers out to smooth along her neck, and she glanced to him tiredly.

"Aside from needing to know every tidbit from my past, why do you care? Why can't you just let me be?"

He scoffed, because really?

"You know why," he said pointedly, sweeping his thumb back and forth over the top of her spine. "I just want you to be okay," he added honestly.

Her eyes shimmered, filling with the unwanted tears once more and he felt the panic swarm him, swelling in his chest. He was doing the opposite of his original intention; he was making it _worse_.

"Kate, I'm sorry - I didn't mean to - I just wanted to help, I swear, I-"

"Castle," she sighed, surprising and silencing him when she decided to lean into the length of his outstretched arm.

He cautiously reeled her body into his, allowed her to hide her face in his chest for as long as she needed, feeling her breathing even out as a few stray tears slipped into the fabric of his shirt. He didn't like hearing about the ways she had loved another man and the ways that man had broken her heart, but he cared about her, and if this was what she needed to feel the least bit closer to okay, he would be a source of support for her. He could do this much without screwing up.

"Thank you," she whispered into the juncture between his neck and his shoulder.

He squeezed at her nape where one of his hands was curled, anchoring her. "For-"

"For being there for me," she answered before he could ask, digging her fingers into his back before carefully lifting her head. "Even after everything."

He swiped a kiss across her forehead and allowed her to take the step back from his arms.

"Always."

Michael Royce ended up in prison the next day. But then Josh Davidson showed up.

And he was not some past love Castle had little reason to worry about. No, the built man with the killer smile was definitely a threat.

The jealously he felt was not subtle this time, didn't creep in skeptically as it had with her training officer. This time it raged like an angry thing inside his chest, bashing against the cage of his ribs, demanding freedom, and as Kate strolled towards the elevators with a motorcycle helmet tucked under her arm and the other around the tall, handsome man's waist, he let it free.

"Kate." The unintentionally harsh bark of her name had her startling to a halt just in front of the elevator doors. She murmured something to Josh and he went on ahead of her while she turned on her heel.

"It's none of your business, Castle," she sighed, as if she already knew what was coming, but he couldn't even be bothered by her dismissal. He had told himself that if she found happiness with someone else, he would bow out of her life as gracefully as he could, without causing a ruckus or a scene, but that plan was nonexistent now.

He couldn't let her go, not when he could still feel what they had once had still alive and palpable between them. Not when they still had a chance.

"You have a boyfriend?" he blurted, his mind fuming and frazzled and unable to come up with a more subtle way of phrasing his question.

Her jaw tensed and she took an intimidating step towards him, knowing the boys and Montgomery were unashamedly watching the exchange from across the bullpen.

"I'm going on a _date_, Rick. I'm single, I'm allowed to do that."

"How long have you been seeing this guy? Have you even-"

"That is none of your concern," she snapped quietly, the warning in her eyes daring him to question her. "And I don't owe you any explanation."

She escaped into the elevators before he could say another word, left him gaping after her, and Castle watched helplessly as the doors slid closed on her tightly crossed arms and disgruntled expression. She was going on a date with someone else.

* * *

Castle moped the entire night, thoughts of Kate and Josh and how their date might end torturing his mind for hours. Even with Alexis appeasing his behavior, sharing ice cream and watching movies with him on the couch until her self-imposed bedtime arrived, he still crawled into his own bed with a pulsing headache and a knot in his stomach.

He had recovered somewhat by the next morning, throwing himself into his writing, burying himself in the shaky world of Nikki Heat and Jameson Rook. For months, it had been difficult to write about characters that had ultimately been inspired by the two of them, seeing her face every time he pictured Nikki and having to slam his laptop closed, but since he had continued shadowing her again, inspiration had come creeping back in.

He was currently working on a scene where Nikki encounters a boyfriend from the past and Rook deals with a good dose of jealousy. Relating to Rook's chagrin all too well, it felt almost therapeutic to write the out the situation, but maybe that was only because in his fictional world, he already knew who Nikki would choose.

Despite his chapter's worth of achievements and slight improvement in mood, Castle still wasn't prepared to see Kate on the other side of his door later that evening. Apparently, the feeling was mutual, because when she saw it was he who answered her knocking, she lowered her gaze to the ground.

"I'm just here to pick up Alexis, for dinner," she explained without looking at him and he sighed, leaning against the door. He couldn't help softening at the sight of her and how she was here for his daughter, pushing his pride to the side and admitting to himself that maybe his behavior the day before had been somewhat out of line, especially for her workplace.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "For how I acted yesterday."

Kate apprehensively met his gaze, but the tense line of her body seemed to loosen and he could slowly feel her guard lowering for him.

"You ruined it," she chuckled, but it was a hollow sound, and he didn't understand.

"Ruined it?"

"My date. Josh and I, we met a few weeks ago, but with our busy schedules, last night was the first chance we had to go on a real date." She was fidgeting, her fingers twisting and twining around each other, so visibly uncomfortable in telling him this. "But I think he always sort of knew that there had been someone, before him. I'm not exactly sure how, but when he saw you he just..." Her brow knitted thoughtfully and she shook her head. "He knew."

He couldn't say he was sorry, not sincerely. He hadn't known Josh, didn't know what kind of man he was, if he was even close to what Kate Beckett deserved, but if he was going off of that criteria, he may not fit the standards for her either.

"I wish I was sorry," he said and she huffed, a hint of a smile lacing along the curve of her lips.

"I knew you wouldn't be, Castle. Too busy huffing and puffing all over the place," she muttered, but she propped her shoulder against the doorframe just a few inches from him.

He grinned, feeling the weight that always settled over his chest when they had a fight lightening. "Can't help it, Beckett. Kind of ruins my plans of getting you back when you're waltzing out of the precinct with other guys."

Her eyes slid closed, the levity of their moment singlehandedly destroyed. But he refused to speak in subtext this time around, it got them nowhere and he didn't want to fall into another holding pattern with her.

"We talked about this," she reminded him quietly, but failed to move away when his fingers trailed over her waist.

"Well, if I remember correctly, you did most of the talking and I just sort of nodded along to-"

"Castle." He had moved closer as he spoke and she pressed a hand to his chest to keep what little distance she could between them. "I think you should go and let Alexis know I'm here."

He nodded, but somehow ended up with his forehead against hers instead.

"Just - give me a second," he murmured, savoring the familiar scent of her, the exotic mixture of cherries and musk and something that was so distinctly Kate.

She didn't know what to do with her hands, her palms flailing midair for a moment before migrating north to curl at his shoulders. His splayed at her ribs, feeling the bones expand under his touch, her breath rattling up her throat and past her lips as her lashes fluttered against his cheek.

"God, I miss you," he sighed, brushing his nose against hers, but swallowing hard, reining his control back in because he had no right to do this to her.

He was prepared to pull back, finally give Kate her space and stop crowding her against the door like some domineering bully, but her fingers clutched at his neck before he could, drew him back down and fit his mouth to hers.

Her lips parted for him the moment his tongue swept across her mouth, like no time had passed at all, and she rose up on her toes – no longer having her height as an advantage in the ballet flats she wore – kissing him deeper. His arms twined around her possessively, wanting her close, close as he could possibly get, and hauling her up against him before pressing her back into the doorframe so he could ease his knee between hers. Her fingers tightened in his shirt at the sudden friction and he caught the moan that crawled out of her throat with his teeth.

"Hey Dad is - oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to - I'll just-"

The retreating flash of red hair was the first thing he saw when both his and Kate's heads snapped in the direction of his teenage daughter's voice, and Kate quickly shoved at his hands, untangling them from around her waist and under her shirt.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry, I-"

"No, no, Alexis, it's fine," Kate assured her, hastily smoothing her hair and straightening her shirt, still a little flushed and out of breath, but much calmer than he had expected.

Far more put together than he was - still standing dazedly in the open doorway, watching the exchange between Kate and his daughter dumbly.

"Are you ready to go?" Kate asked her lightly. "If you still want to go…"

Alexis nodded quickly, fiddling with the necklace around her throat, waiting for something.

Kate shot him a pointed look. "Castle, can you move? So Alexis can get her coat?"

"Oh." He took a jerky step sideways before getting his limbs under control and evenly making his way back into the loft.

Alexis smirked as she reached inside the closet by the front door and retrieved her pea coat, fixing her braid over the collar and sending Kate an expectant glance over her shoulder.

"I'll have her back in a couple of hours," she said shortly, not looking at him, but he merely nodded and didn't raise his eyes again until Kate was turned away from him and walking out the door.

* * *

"So," Alexis hummed from beside her and Kate rolled her eyes, keeping her gaze on the road as they drove through SoHo, towards the Italian restaurant across town that Alexis favored. Despite her breakup with Castle, Beckett had managed to keep a close relationship with his daughter, but Alexis had never stopped advocating for a reconciliation between the two of them. And after walking in on them making out against the front door, she had quite a bit of ammunition.

"We're not going to talk about it."

"_Kate_," she whined, Little Castle suddenly sounding so much like Big Castle.

"No."

"But-"

"Alexis, we're going to dinner to talk about you and your love life, not… me."

"In that case, I have a question."

"Shoot," she said more confidently than she felt.

"How do you know when you're in love? Real love, like with… well, you know."

Kate wanted to drop her head to the steering wheel in exasperation. Alexis usually never mentioned her father or their past relationship on these girls' nights they had every few weeks, knowing the subject was touchy. His daughter hadn't necessarily taken a side after the whole ordeal in the summer, opting instead to treat them both equally. It had surprised Beckett at first, considering how protective Alexis was of her family, but then Kate had realized, at some point, Alexis had made her family too.

"All the songs make sense," she sighed, repeating the same answer she had given to Castle when he had asked her the same question two nights ago.

"That's so true!" Alexis answered enthusiastically. "I was just telling my dad how everything makes sense now. All the songs and the poems and even the movies, it's just amazing."

Kate chuckled softly at the awe in the girl's voice as she continued rattling on, drifting away from Kate's relationship with her father and deeper into the budding romance happening between her and Ashley. Kate listened to her, nodded at all right times, knowing all too well what this was - the innocence and dreamy haze of being in love for the first time. She had felt that way once upon a time, but her world had quickly been drained of all types of starry-eyed innocence on a cold, January night. She saw people for what they were now, no longer trusting blindly nor fully like Alexis still tended to. It made her worry for the teen at times, wondering if she would have what it takes to make it when thrust into the real world and all of its harsh cruelties, but when she glanced over and caught the sparkle in his daughter's blue eyes, she fiercely hoped Alexis never lost her pure form of integrity.


	3. Chapter 3

Once Kate returned home from her evening with Alexis, she poured herself the glass of wine she had abstained from drinking at dinner, and gracelessly plopped down onto her couch. She contemplated watching a movie on her laptop or plucking a book from one of her many shelves, but instead she propped her feet up on the coffee table and retrieved her phone from the back of her jean's pocket.

Lanie answered on the second ring.

"Finally call to tell me about your date with Doctor Dreamy?"

Kate huffed and took a long sip from her glass.

"There's nothing to tell."

"Aww, really? I'm sorry, honey," Lanie replied, sounding truly apologetic. Her best friend had high hopes for her and Castle, but she had also encouraged her to move on after watching her trudge through the summer in not so well hidden misery. Josh had been the first man she had actually shown interest in, pictured herself dating happily, but those tentative thoughts had been smashed to smithereens before they'd even had a chance to grow.

She should have known letting Josh pick her up at the precinct would be a bad idea.

"Not a good match?" Lanie inquired softly when Kate forgot to speak.

"It wasn't that, he just - he wasn't-"

She refused to say he wasn't _him_. It was just – it was different. He was taller than Castle, so much so that Kate barely reached his chin even in her highest heels and his scent was too strong, too masculine and overpowering – a cologne that made her eyes water. He had a nice personality, seemed genuinely interested in her job, but talked more about his own. Josh had made the shy butterflies in her stomach flutter, but they failed to ascend into an uproar.

"It had nothing to do with Josh," she said finally. "Castle was still in the bullpen when he came to pick me up and-"

"Oh lord," Lanie sighed. "I can only _imagine _how writer boy handled that."

"Not well," Kate hedged, raking her fingers through her hair, curling her toes around the wooden edge of the square coffee table she had found on a solo trip through a weekend bazaar in the city. She had been looking for new furniture and the simple, honey colored little table had been one of her first purchases in the journey to rebuilding herself a home. She wasn't allowed much in the studio apartment she was renting, but at least it was her own.

"Josh and I still went to dinner, but it was awkward and he didn't see much, but I think he knew Castle was the jealous ex," she muttered, closing her lips around the glass but not tilting it up.

"So I'm assuming no second date?"

"Nope."

"Want me to come over for a late dinner?" Lanie inquired. "I'll bring your favorite bottle of red." But Kate shook her head even though Lanie couldn't see her.

"No, that's okay. I actually just got home from taking Alexis out for dinner."

"I almost forgot you still did that. Did you run into Big Castle while retrieving Little Castle?"

Kate chuckled and rubbed her eyes at Lanie's intrigued, teasing tone.

"Yeah, we talked a little when I got there," she murmured too quietly, and Lanie went eerily silent, a contemplative kind of silence that filled Kate with instant dread.

"Hold up a second," Lanie interrupted suddenly. "I _know_ this voice. This is the _writer boy's got my panties in a bunch_ voice."

Kate growled. "It is _not_."

"Oh yes it is, which tells me something happened. Spill. Now."

Beckett winced and leant forward to set her half empty wine glass on the table before pressing back into the couch and closing her eyes.

"We kissed."

Lanie squealed and Kate held the phone away from her, rolled her eyes, and returned the device to her ear when Lanie was finished.

"This is not a good thing," she hissed. "We're not supposed to be kissing. We're not even supposed to be…"

"C'mon Beckett," Lanie said, softer now. "I know he hurt you, believe me. And I'm not saying that you should just forget that," she added quickly before Kate could proffer up her usual side of this argument. "But you have to remember, you hurt him too, and he's obviously not just going to give up when the guy clearly still has feelings for you and you still have feelings for him."

"I do n-"

"Katherine Beckett."

"Fine," Kate drawled out the word. "Maybe I do. But what if-"

"No, no what if's. Not yet," Lanie insisted adamantly. "Listen, I'm not saying dive back into a serious relationship with him, not yet. But you're allowed to dip your toes in, test the waters. Make out with him if you feel like it."

Kate dug her elbows into her thighs and buried her face in her hands. She hadn't had enough wine for this conversation.

"So, how was it?"

Kate's brow creased. "What?"

"The kiss," Lanie huffed in exasperation. "Was it as good as you remember?"

Beckett hesitated, but sighed. No point in trying to deny it when Lanie would see right through her anyway. She always did when they talked of her relationship with Rick.

"Yeah. Even - it was better than I remembered," she admitted. "I didn't even hear Alexis walk in on us."

Lanie gasped and then sent her a reprimanding tsk. "You two are going to scar that poor girl so bad."

"It was _one _other time," Beckett defended but eventually found herself joining in with Lanie's laughter and loosening her grip on the daunting trepidation that plagued her thoughts of Castle and that kiss.

* * *

When Alexis walked through the door, he felt the crestfallen expression involuntarily claim his face. He didn't know why he had expected to see Kate with her; she had never followed his daughter up before. But she had never come to the door to pick her up for one of their impromptu girls nights either.

"Hey sweetie, how was dinner?" he said cheerfully, recovering before Alexis could see any of it on his face.

"Fine," she chirped, hanging her coat up and moving to the kitchen to slip a box of leftovers in the fridge.

He knew he was hovering, hoping for something, something about Kate, but Alexis – whether truly oblivious or not – merely pecked his forehead and wished him a goodnight, like always. Castle huffed and dropped back to the couch where he had remained since Alexis had left over two hours ago.

"What's the matter, kiddo?" Martha asked, breezing into the room.

His mother had returned home an hour ago, while his daughter was still out with the detective, and somehow – motherly instincts, she had called it – she had already known why he was sitting forlornly on the couch, staring mindlessly past the active television screen. Alexis had likely told her where she would be tonight and every time his daughter went out with Kate, he always tended to pout. He had gotten better over the last month, not thinking so hard about her when he knew she was so close by, but now he was back to his dejected ways. All he could think about was kissing her, how right it had felt to finally kiss her again.

"She kissed me," he sighed, fiddling with the remote, flicking the TV off.

"Katherine?" she assumed, but it was a redundant question and he only nodded. "I would expect quite the opposite reaction."

"I was hoping… I thought maybe she would come back with Alexis," he admitted, feeling so stupid for it, even more foolish saying the expectation aloud.

"Just because she didn't come up doesn't mean all is doomed, Richard," Martha reasoned softly, taking a seat on the plush armchair positioned diagonally from his side of the couch.

"She'll probably just pretend it never happened," he muttered, suddenly bitter, but Martha grabbed his wrist when he rose to stalk away to his office.

"Then don't let her. Honestly, you two need to learn to speak to one another. _Communicate_," Martha declared, enunciating the word with an added flair of her usual dramatics, but her eyes were serious. This was important and she knew how much it meant to him, a chance at having Kate back in his life. "You fell apart because you didn't listen to her, right?"

He pursed his lips but nodded glumly.

"Well, that needs to change. You want her back, show her, _tell _her. And don't expect it all to happen in a single day, my boy. You know just as well as I do that true love takes time."

Castle smiled warmly at his mother, bent forward to kiss her head. "You're right."

And she was. Regardless of his mother's own hectic example of a love life, she did know what real love was, and she had always told him, even after it was over, that she saw it between him and Kate. He did too.

"Of course I'm right," Martha replied, lifting from the armchair and sauntering back in the direction of the stairs, the colorful silk of her robe billowing behind her.

"Thank you," he called after her and she waved him off, but gave him a reassuring wink over her shoulder.

"Anytime."

* * *

Castle came into the precinct the next day determined. She hadn't called, hadn't informed him of any new case, but he still found her at her desk, working diligently on the paperwork in front of her.

"Hey."

Kate lifted her head, smiled softly at the coffee he set in front of her.

"Hey, thank you," she murmured, taking a grateful sip.

"Of course. Can I ask you something?"

The cup was still at her lips, but she lowered it back to her desk, folded her hands under her chin and nodded her affirmation.

"Go ahead."

She looked anxious, like she was terrified he was going to bring up what had happened in the doorway of his loft the night before, but that wasn't his intention. Not yet.

"Do you want to get something to eat, for lunch?"

Gentle surprise flurried through her features and she released a soft exhale, a sigh of relief. There was a touch of apprehension; he had a feeling there would be for a while, but he could handle that. He would rid her of it with time and gestures and proof.

"Sure. Remy's okay with you? I'm craving a milkshake."

He grinned, brushed a fleeting hand down her forearm and watched her bite her lower lip – uncertain but not shrinking away from his brief touch. It gave him hope.

"Sounds perfect."


	4. Chapter 4

Castle and Ryan had yet to return from relaying the news of Marcus Gates' return to prison to Jerry Tyson, and even with Montgomery's reassurances that they had likely just gone out for a drink, she still felt the worry like a cold knot of dread in the middle of her chest alive and beating. Castle had been pestering her about grabbing dinner, a real dinner, when he came back – calling it their second first date despite the fierce glares she kept giving him and the fact that they had been sharing meals frequently throughout the last two weeks – and he would never just skip out without telling her first.

She was in her car, on her way home when she finally decided to call him.

"Hello?"

Her heart slowed at the sound of his voice.

"Castle," she breathed his name in relief. "Are you still with Ryan?"

"Yeah," he answered, but his voice was rough, strained and unusual, and the relief was gone. Kate pressed harder on the accelerator. Just in case. "We're heading to grab a drink at a bar, the Treasure Cove."

Her hands tightened around the steering wheel, her knuckles blanching.

"Want me to come meet you guys?"

"No, Kate. You go home. You've had a long day."

She swallowed thickly, wishing she could go faster. Something was wrong and she had a feeling she already knew what it was.

"I'll see you tomorrow then," she said slowly, the longer she could keep him on the better, but Castle was already bidding her farewell.

"Hope so, Beckett. I love you."

"Love you too," she murmured, clenching her fingers too tightly around the plastic case of her phone. She called Esposito as soon as Castle clicked off, had him inform backup to meet them at the hotel where they had secured Tyson immediately.

Beckett slammed on the breaks as soon as she made it into the parking lot, tires squealing, the red and blue lights of her vehicle illuminating the building in front of her. She barely remembered to put her cruiser in park before flinging the door open and racing up the stairs to the second floor, straight to room 47.

"Castle!" she called his name into the dark room as soon as she kicked the door open, her voice on the verge of cracking. He had to be okay, he had to-

"It's clear," Castle informed her, wincing under the shine of her flashlight as it swept over him. "He's gone. I'm fine. Ryan needs an ambulance."

"No I don't," Ryan groaned from a few feet away as Esposito hustled across the room to his partner.

"Castle," she breathed, lurching across the space between him and the doorway. "I'm so glad that you're okay."

"He's the Triple Killer. Tyson. He set Gates up to be a copycat."

"I know," she said quietly as she went to work on untying the ripped phone cords from his wrists, smoothing her thumbs into the bones before releasing him and moving to stand in front of his sitting figure once more. "I did the math when you and Ryan didn't come back from talking to Jerry. And then when I called-"

"I knew you would understand," he sighed, relieved, but so drained and so very defeated.

"You hate the Treasure Cove," she smiled softly, tenderly sliding her palm up his cheek, and he nodded, leaned into her touch before taking the hand she offered to haul him upwards.

Her fingers swept over his wrists, feathering over the angry redness that braceleted his skin in concern, but Castle turned his palms up, caught her unsteady fingers.

"I'm so glad you're okay," she whispered, biting her lip when it started to quiver.

"You said that already, Beckett," he teased lightly, his hands lifting to her shoulders and rubbing small circles into her skin with his thumbs to soothe her.

"Can't say it enough."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, buried her face in his shoulder and inhaled the fading scent of his aftershave. She knew Ryan and Esposito were still in the room and that CSU would arrive within minutes, but all she needed was a moment of reassurance, a moment of him in her embrace reminding her he truly was okay. "I thought I lost you," she confessed and Castle locked his arms securely around her waist, held her until the image of finding him dead in Tyson's hotel room finally dissipated.

"Never," he promised into the skin of her cheek, dusting a chaste kiss there before straightening and allowing his arms to slip from around her frame.

* * *

She found him out by the pool after he finished giving his statement to one of the other officers on the scene, the glare of the bright blue water reflecting upwards and painting shimmering shadows across his skin.

"Hey," she murmured, holding out the coffee from the gas station down the street to him.

He tried to force a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. Not even close. "Thanks."

She took a seat on the bench beside him, close enough to press her thigh to his, and he glanced down to her curiously.

"Tell me something, Castle," she murmured, hesitant but needing to know. "Why did he let you live?"

He pursed his lips, lowered his gaze to the flimsy plastic cup in his hands.

"To punish me. Make me pay for ruining his plan. Now he's going to kill again all because I couldn't stop him. And I feel so..."

The ache in his voice chiseled at her heart, the anguish of responsibilities he had no right to be burdened with making her selfishly wish he had never shadowed her in the first place. He knew the world was a cruel, brutal place, he'd known that before he had ever met her, but now he had experienced it firsthand and it was not something she would wish upon anyone. Especially not him.

She slid her hand onto his knee, squeezed lightly. "I know the feeling," she stated softly.

His hand covered hers, laced their fingers.

"I know you do," he sighed quietly, pressing his cheek to the top of her head when it fell to rest on his shoulder.

Her eyes pricked with tears, unwanted salty moisture burning at her vision that she immediately blinked away. She had missed this. He made her feel safe and she only wanted the same for him, to wrap him in an identical blanket of security and reassurance, and in moments like these, she almost believed she could.

"Castle?" she said after a few minutes.

"Hmm?" he murmured, his lips brushing against her hair, pushing her onwards.

"About what you said on the phone, I-"

His lips left her hair, his entire upper body suddenly leaning away, shutting her out.

"I know, Kate. You said what you had to, it's fine," he assured her quickly, already withdrawing his hand and preparing to leave her.

"I wasn't-"

"Can we just drop it?" he huffed and she tried not to let it bother her, the fact that he was brushing off something so important, but he had been through a lot tonight. She couldn't hold it against him.

So she rose from the bench instead. "Come on, I'll drive you home."

"I'll get a cab, it's -"

"Castle."

He sighed in defeat and took her hand when she offered it to him again, followed her across the lot to her Crown Vic grudgingly.

* * *

"You going to be okay?" she asked while walking him to his door, her fingers loosely tangled with his again. He had been silent the entire ride over, staring out the passenger window thoughtfully. She hadn't wanted to disturb him, but she was worried. She knew what this kind of guilt could do to a person and she didn't want to watch him suffocate under it.

"I'll be fine," he assured her, but if she heard the word 'fine' from his lips one more time she would throttle him. "You want to come in for a bit though?"

She was surprised by the invitation. He had been cold since she had mentioned the words exchanged during the phone call that led her to him, she had assumed he would want to be rid of her as quickly as possible.

"Sure."

He hadn't expected her to say yes, and for some reason, the surprise on his face made her feel worse.

The loft was dimmed and quiet, Alexis and Martha already asleep and blissfully unaware of what they had been through only a couple of hours before.

"Drink?" he asked politely as he headed towards his kitchen, but she hoisted herself onto one of the barstools and shook her head while he poured himself a glass of water. "You sure, Beckett? I still remember how to make your favorite blend of hot chocolate," he grinned, and she couldn't help it, didn't mean to let it happen, but she was forced to bury her face in her hands to hide the pointless tears overwhelming her eyes once again.

She heard him set his glass down, followed by the quick shuffling of his feet around the bar, until she could feel the warmth emanating from him right in front of her.

He hesitated, but only for a moment, and then he was turning her on the barstool, coaxing her into his chest.

"Don't cry, Kate. Please," he murmured into her hair, running his fingers through it as he spoke. "I'm right here, love. I'm impossible to get rid of, remember?"

She choked on a small laugh, felt him exhale in relief, and she fastened her arms around his waist.

"If something happened to you-"

"Nothing will happen to me," he insisted, but that was a promise no person could make.

Kate shuddered and turned her face into his neck, pressed her lips to his skin out of instinct, but Castle froze at the action.

"Beckett."

At her last name, she drew back. He looked lost and unsure and hopeful, and she shouldn't play with him like this, especially not tonight, but she had almost lost him, pictured all the ways he could have been killed in the too long drive to the hotel. And as the images swarmed her mind once more, she tilted forward a little too urgently, needing his mouth on hers.

Castle didn't pull back, didn't push her away or protest. His fingers clenched in her hair and his breathing stuttered, his lips unmoving against hers - the entire exchange so tentative and uncertain.

Kate lifted her fingers to his cheek, brushed the tips of her nails down his skin as she tipped her forehead into his.

"Want to stick around, reaffirm life?" he joked softly, but she was serious as she leant forward to kiss him again, deliberately slanting her mouth over his and pushing her tongue past the weak barricade of his lips. No longer the least bit uncertain in what she wanted.

"Please," she breathed, like it was the magic word, and for him, it was, because his hand rose to cradle her face, angling her to his liking so he could kiss her deeper, hold her closer.

Her legs folded around his waist, hands dove into his hair. Her spine arched, pressing her chest to his, moaning gratefully when his hands slithered down her sides and curled at her thighs, lifted her into his arms and started towards the bedroom.

One of her hands left his hair, went to work at divesting his shirt of buttons as he strode through his office, into his bedroom, slamming the door closed with a kick of his foot. They both went down when he lowered her to the bed, his body heavy and right atop hers and she couldn't even be bothered by the realization that she was breaking her own rules, falling back into bed with the man who had broken her heart. Instead, she arched upwards, let him tug the black turtleneck and then her bra up and off before he lifted on his knees to shrug the unbuttoned dress shirt from his shoulders.

But then he was moving from the bed, out of her line of sight and she bit back the frustrated whine lodged in her throat, too desperate for games. The next thing she knew his hands were on her waist, dragging her down to the edge of the mattress and sliding her slacks down her legs, tossing them towards the closet with her heels.

"Castle, no," she gasped when she felt his lips coasting along her inner thighs and his fingers hooking around her underwear, slipping the plain black cotton down her long legs. His hand curled around her ankle, positioning her heel at his shoulder and her head began to shake at its own volition. They were just supposed to be having sex, reaffirming life just like he said. Not this, not-

Her hips rocketed from the bed when his mouth touched her, his tongue gliding through her folds while his knowing fingers teased along her entrance. Kate grabbed at the sheets, but found little purchase, so she reached for his hair, her nails scoring at his scalp, and he groaned quietly, the vibrations of sound shooting up her spine and sending her teeth into her bottom lip to suppress sounds of her own. But when his fingers slipped inside her, she couldn't help the moan that escaped.

Her other leg ended up over his opposite shoulder, the muscles of her thighs clenching as his mouth sucked on her clit and his fingers moved in and out of her, curling and coaxing her closer to the edge. She hated how well he knew her body, how he knew exactly where to touch and what to do, how he had her coming undone in so little time.

She focused on catching her breath as the shattered pieces of her slowly came back together, on calming the rabbiting beat of her heart while he gently untangled her legs from his shoulders, dropping his lips to every piece of skin he found.

She watched as he stood up, finally stepped out of his pants, and helped position her in the middle of the bed again. It was pointless to protest when he started dropping his mouth to her ribs, her stomach, her shoulder – sucking and nipping at her sensitive skin, marking all the places he knew she could cover up.

"Castle, please," she exhaled, her voice too unsteady to make a proper demand, and Rick slid his hand behind one of her knees, spreading her and she closed her hand around his length, stroked him once before guiding him in.

Her legs wrapped around his thighs, her arms around his neck, sighing at the intimate press of his skin burning against hers.

She had _really_ missed this.

He started to move, unhurried and too gentle, and she undulated her hips sharply, brought his slow rhythm to a stutter. He grunted and stole one of her hands, pinned it above their heads and laced their fingers, driving his hips into hers and sending her nails into his knuckles.

Her head thumped back into the pillow, her lips pressed tightly together and her eyes slamming closed because she was already close and they were just so good at this, too good, and _why _had she thought this would be a good idea?

"Kate," he choked into her jaw and she turned her head, kissed him hard, curling her free hand around his neck to keep his mouth against hers.

"I know," she murmured, her nose clashing with his as he thrust harder and deeper than before, and her control unraveled, her body coming undone with a harsh jerk upwards and a broken sob in her throat.

He followed her over the edge in seconds, her name on his lips, and she dropped a breathless kiss to his temple, trailed her fingers over his ear and listened to his breathing slow in time with hers.

Castle brushed his lips over her brow, her nose, her cheek before he rolled off of her, onto his back, his chest still heaving, and Kate allowed her body to follow, melting into his side. He waited until the sweat had dried and her skin had cooled to lace his arms around her. His fingers danced up and down her spine in that soothing way he knew put her to sleep, but she couldn't doze off here. She craned her neck forward, caught his lips, kissed him deep and long and slow, making sure he could taste the _thank god you're alive _she painted across his tongue.

She returned her head to his chest, listened to the beautiful rhythm of his heartbeat, forcing her eyes to stay partially opened despite the tempting calls of sleep she found so easily here. She waited until she was sure he was out to ease out of the bed, pressing an impulsive kiss to his forehead before quickly gathering her clothes and escaping into the night back to her apartment.

* * *

She showered as soon as she was in the safety of her own home, deposited her clothing into the laundry hamper and stepped into the steaming spray of hot water in hopes of washing away the evidence of the mistake she had made. She scrubbed furiously at her hair, working the shampoo through the strands he had tangled, and pressing her fingers roughly into her scalp to quiet the voice telling her the mistake had not been sleeping with Castle, it had been leaving him to wake alone.

The water and her sweet scented body wash managed to wipe away the scent of his cologne, but the smears of darkening purple marks from his mouth remained present on her skin for days.


	5. Chapter 5

The next day, Castle didn't come into the precinct and even when they caught a new case, she didn't call him, too cowardly to face up to what she had done just yet.

She had used him, used his body for reassurance because the fear of losing him had shaken her. It had made her reckless, had driven her to embrace a need for him she had spent nearly three months repressing, but it was no excuse for leaving him to wake alone. The whole point, she reasoned to herself, was to comfort him, to erase the events of the night from his mind, and from hers. Instead, she had loved him and left him.

Hell of a great comfort she was.

Memories of their strictly sexual relationship fluttered in her mind, the look of hopeful longing that had constantly inhabited his eyes throughout that period of their budding relationship flashing every time she closed her own. It made her feel even worse.

But a week later, when they came upon a case of what was originally thought to be a cop who actually turned out to be a dead stripper, she couldn't resist finding his name in her phone's contact list.

"Detective Beckett," he answered smoothly. "So you haven't forgotten how to use a phone."

She winced even though the jab was subtle and teasing, and scraped her fingers through her hair.

"Interested in coming in, Castle? We've got a new case I think you might enjoy."

He hesitated and she chewed on her lip, prepared to accept the well-deserved rejection, but then…

"I'll see you in twenty."

"With coffee?" she asked quietly, not because she needed her caffeine fix from him – although, she had missed her vanilla lattes this past week – but because coffee was their thing, and maybe she could get them back on track, step by step, with little things like coffee and lunch at Remy's and the 'freaky' cases they both worked so well at solving. Maybe they could forget about what had happened after she had escorted him home the night 3XK had escaped.

"Of course, Kate," he replied warmly.

He hung up, but true to his word, strolled into the precinct fifteen minutes later with two coffees in hand. She had hurt him, she knew that without even having search for the wounded quality to his eyes, but he appeared willing to forgive if she was willing to work for it and she swore to herself she was.

* * *

She probably could have found a better way to work for forgiveness.

Dragging Castle along to the strip club was probably not the smartest idea she could have had, but it was definitely encouraging to witness his eyes turn the unmistakable shade of dark blue she knew all too well the moment he saw her outfit for the night.

They had agreed to meet at her apartment and apparently, he had felt the authority to use his new key that was supposed to be solely for emergencies instead of knocking, therefore walking in on her before she could cover herself with the cardigan she had laid out. His gaze had raked unabashedly down her figure, over the satin and black lace clinging to her body, before resting resolutely on her smokey eyes and swallowing thickly.

"Ready to go?"

In the car, his hand boldly migrated to her knee, his thumb tracing maddening circles over her patella through the sheer material of her tights. His fingers trailed along the inside of her thigh, venturing higher as if to see just how far he could get. She nearly ran a red light twice before finally catching his fingers in an iron grip and giving him a warning glare.

"I can still see the bruise I left here," he commented almost smugly, his middle finger brushing too high on her inner thigh, over the covered skin where there was still a mark from how he had sucked too intently on her skin nearly a week ago. It was faded, he couldn't see it through the opaque fabric of her stockings, but it was in fact still there and she shifted her leg, caused his hand to fall away.

Kate swatted at his fingers when they tried to cover her knee once more and he gratefully returned his hand to his own lap, but only for the rest of the short drive. Once they were getting their hands stamped for admission to the club's entrance, his palm splayed broadly across the small of her back and his body pressed too close to be acceptable.

"Castle," she growled as they made their way through the sea of overly excited women shouting for the half naked men on the stage. He was glued to her side, possessively holding to her waist. "Behave."

She felt his smirk when he lowered his lips to the shell of her ear.

"No promises."

* * *

He followed Kate through the swinging bathroom door, dodging it with a huff when she tried to slam it in his face.

"C'mon Beckett, don't be cranky. We've got a new lead," he said delightedly, but with a hidden smirk because he kind of liked seeing her worked up over something as frivolous as her hair.

"You sprayed me with a _fire extinguisher_," she huffed, attempting to fix the once volumized curls that he had flattened with the mixture of chemicals that had rained down on her and the stage of strippers.

"I was _helping_," he countered, but she scoffed at him in the club's bathroom mirror.

They had just finished interrogating Hans Van Mannschaft, the lead stripper who was once their most promising lead, and she had made a detour to the strip club's bathroom, intending to change back into her street clothes before they returned to the Twelfth to check in with Ryan and Esposito about the information they had gained from the man.

"Sure, Castle," she muttered dryly. "Can you step out now so I can change?"

"Actually, I wanted to talk about this outfit first," he mused, coming up behind her, boxing her in against the sink's countertop with his arms on each side of her waist and crowding against her back. He watched her throat bob in the mirror, her breath catching just slightly, but her shoulder nudged at him.

"We're not doing this here," she murmured, but he still placed one of his hands on her stomach, splayed his palm wide over the lace fabric of her… dress?

"This reminds me of that time you wore lingerie to my Halloween party, Beckett," he grinned, his hand trailing up the front of her body, cupping one of her satin covered breasts. She wasn't wearing a bra and he could already feel her nipple straining against the material. "And you remember how that ended," he husked, his breath purposely fanning out over the shell of her ear, and feeling satisfied when he witnessed the goosebumps erupt along the back of her neck.

Her eyes fluttered closed, her face contorting in a mixture of resistance and desire fighting for dominance, and Castle decided to push her limits even further, pulled aside the scalloped edge of the lacey black neckline and covered her bared breast with his warm palm. He watched her mouth fall open in the mirror.

Looked like desire won.

Her head dropped back against his shoulder, falling to the side and leaving the creamy line of her throat to press his lips to. It was all the permission he needed and he nudged the flimsy excuse for a cardigan from her shoulder with his nose. She assisted in shrugging the wrap off, rotating her shoulder and slipping her hand through the gaping sleeve. The black material fluttered from her arm to hang precariously from her opposite elbow before drifting to the grimy tile floor. He used his teeth to pull at the thin straps of her dress, dragging them to her biceps, dropping a kiss to each muscle and letting the straps fall to rest in the crooks of her elbows, before reattaching his lips to her neck as his hands cupped her naked flesh.

Her ribs expanded as her spine arched forward, into his touch, and she turned her head, her lips finding his jaw, raking down the line of bone with her teeth until he met her mouth with his own.

He sucked her lower lip into his mouth, nipped at the flesh, almost punishing in how he kissed her because she had left him the last time they'd done this, slipped out in the middle of the night after making love to him like it was a mistake. Which for her, it probably was. He had thought they were beyond that. He had thought they were more than this, but maybe sex was the closest thing to a connection he would ever have with Kate Beckett. Maybe this was all they would ever be.

Kate's hips rocked backwards, into the cradle of his, and then she _grinded_, the friction right where he needed it and already unbearable, and he bit down on the skin between her neck and her shoulder, elicited a whimper from her parted lips. He mercilessly pinched and rolled both her nipples between his fingers and she gasped, reaching up suddenly to knock his hands away from her breasts and shoving him from her back so she could turn. He wasted no time in hoisting her onto the bathroom counter, spreading her legs and huffing as he was reminded that she was wearing tights underneath her dress.

"Can't ever be easy with you, Beckett."

She cocked an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk on her lips, but her hand was in his hair, tugging him in for a sloppy kiss, all clashing teeth and frantic tongue. He pushed her dress up past her hips and jerked the black tights she wore down, feeling the thin nylon snag against his fingers but not stopping until they were past her knees and he could feel the silk expanse of her bare skin underneath his fingertips. He drew his hand up her inner thigh, glided his fingers through the slick heat between her legs, pressed his thumb against her clit, and traced hard, deliberate circles. She growled, surprising him when she dug her fingers into his ass and jerked him deeper into the space between her knees.

He dusted his lips along the swell of her breasts while she unbuckled his belt, pulled his zipper down with purposeful pressure that made his groin throb painfully, and finally worked his slacks down his thighs. Her fingers danced up his naked skin, barely touching but still affecting, and he bucked impatiently against her hand when it wrapped around his hardness. She still teased his length, stroking and trailing her nails lightly up and down before circling his tip with her thumb, biting her lip in something between amusement and anticipation.

Castle's hand tightened around her hipbone, hard enough to bruise, and he tugged her to the edge of the countertop, where he effortlessly slid into her.

Her forehead knocked into his, her breath coming in short, sharp pants as he took a moment to let her adjust. Her arms laced around his neck, securing her grip, and then her legs coiled around his, her thighs squeezed, and it was desperate again.

They fell into a quick, sloppy rhythm – his thrusts messy and the frenetic circling of her hips graceless. His open mouth covered the strip of skin over her pulse, but she tugged roughly on his hair only a moment after his tongue had the opportunity to taste her salty flesh.

"Don't even," she muttered and he knew it was because she couldn't hide the mark. She never allowed him to stain her skin in visible areas, but indignation flared hotly within him despite the logic.

"Why?" he panted. "Don't want your boyfriend to see?"

The steady rocking of her hips came to a jarring halt and she met his eyes for the first time that night.

"It was one date," she hissed, but there was apology in her eyes that he was positive she didn't want him to see. "What about you and your _ex wife_?" she countered bitterly, intentionally tightening her muscles around him, causing his breath to falter.

"Rumors," he growled, partially surprised she even knew about that. Gossip about him and Gina reconciling had come up in the paper maybe once or twice in the last few weeks, but it wasn't as though it was big news, which meant- "You keeping tabs on me, Beckett?"

Her teeth grit and then she was rolling her body into his with startling intensity and deliberately sucking on _his _neck because suddenly she was the one needing to stake claim. He didn't even care, using the hand at her back to urge her on and crush her naked chest against his.

"You were jealous," she rasped, digging her nails into the flexing muscles of his back under his shirt while the spikes of her heels dug into his calves, her mouth drifting to press over the sliver of skin between the two buttons he had left undone. "Not just then. Tonight too."

He answered her by pulling out almost completely and then plunging back in, drawing a helpless mewl from her throat, the sound vibrating through the bones of his sternum.

"So what if I was?" he muttered, the hand at her hip traveling to the small of her back, forcing her body deeper into his, feeling her inner walls clenching at the firm meeting of hips.

Her arms tightened almost painfully around his neck, her fingers brutal in his hair, and he slipped a hand between them, past the scratchy strip of lace across her abdomen, down to where they were joined. She whined low in her throat as his fingers moved in tight little circles, and then her entire body seized, bowing forward and bursting apart.

Her lower body continued to move for him, coaxed him into the same, spiraling release with her, and for a while, they both remained slumped against the smudged bathroom mirror.

Castle was the first to move, settling his hands on her thighs and slowly withdrawing from her. Kate's head fell back against the mirror, shaking the glass, and he bent down to retrieve her cardigan, folded the fabric over his arm because there was no way she was putting it back on now. Beckett allowed her heels to slip from her feet and leant forward to scrape her ripped stockings the rest of the way down her legs. She tossed them in the trashcan under the paper towel dispenser and reached for the bag containing her clothes still sitting untouched on the opposite end of the counter.

"I'll let you get changed now," he said hastily, feeling awkward and unwanted all of the sudden, needing to get out of the confined space of the women's bathroom.

"Castle?"

He lifted his downcast eyes, couldn't help the way his gaze lingered on her - half naked on a bathroom counter with her lipstick smudged and her hair sexily tousled. She was beautiful.

"You don't need to be."

His brow creased at the statement, before his mind wandered back to what she had said, about him being jealous.

Moving back towards her was a bad idea, as most of his were, and he found himself laying a kiss to her mouth before he could stop. Her lips met his with a welcoming caress, kissing him with something that tasted like hope and reassurance that he refused to put faith in. He pulled away with a sigh that was a little too sad, because he never knew it would be so frustrating – to have her in the most intimate way possible while not really having her at all.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: For those who are uncertain of the timeline - in this universe, Castle and Beckett were together throughout the end of season two (post _still our hands match_). The breakup occurs in the early portion of the summer that follows. This story picks up after they spend the summer apart.**

* * *

"Want to catch the comfort food truck with me?"

His eyes lit up like a little boy's, so excited by her simple invitation, and he quickly nodded, snatching his coat from his chair and trotting after her.

"Macaroni and cheese, warm biscuits, hot chocolate? How could I say no?"

"Pretty undeniable request," she agreed, grinning like an idiot as they walked side by side to the elevators.

"Plus, the added bonus of you," he threw in for good measure and despite the reprimanding glare she shot him, she knew her eyes were still beaming, just like his.

He had been down lately, especially after watching Ryan propose to Jenny in the bullpen the other day. They had both been elated for their friends, but afterwards, once the cheering and happy applause had died down, he had turned to her and she had seen the memory strike him, reminding him of how his last proposal hadn't gone so well, and his face had fallen, his smile had faded.

And then there had been another case a few weeks before, the bird case, where he had watched her walk hand in hand with the recovered little boy, Tyler, at her side. After they had returned the kidnapped boy to his father, Castle had stared at her with an unfamiliar yearning she had never seen on him before, a fierce longing that had made her knees weak. She had realized too late why.

The scene of her with a young boy, it had sparked something in him that they had never even considered talking about.

He had tried to cover his feelings up with sarcasm and humor, his normal line of defenses, but the repressed sense of melancholy had seeped through when he wasn't careful and she had the sinking feeling it was all because of her - _knew_ it was because of her - and the little progression made in their tentative relationship. He had said he loved her, not even a day after he had come strutting back into her life a near four months ago now, and he hadn't said the words since then, not unless she counted the dire situation with 3XK, but he showed them with ease.

Castle was a patient man, but in times like these, it felt wrong to make him wait for her.

The case they had just closed on Zalman Drake – the master magician – had mystified him, the world of magic astounding to him, and she knew it wasn't much, but once they were in the elevator, she recalled that old trick her grandfather had taught her when she was ten, pulled the fake flowers from her sleeve with a flourish.

Castle looked in awe of her, accepting the flowers with a dopey smile that she wanted her lips against, but she merely smiled back coyly, hoping he got the subtle message she wanted to send.

_I can still surprise you._

He captured her hand and she squeezed.

_Don't give up on me yet._

* * *

They were sitting on a bench in the park, sharing a variety of mouthwatering food choices from the truck still parked on the sidewalk; she was stealing pieces of his steaming biscuits and he kept taking sips of her hot chocolate because he had downed his own too quickly, and eventually she wasn't even sure what was whose because she was having a bite of everything. It was too domestic, it was nice. Until the cloudy overcast started to leak.

"Shit," she muttered, placing lids on everything splayed across her lap and his.

They worked together quickly, easily, depositing each container of food into the brown paper bags they had received their orders in, and then they dashed for her car.

Beckett cranked the heat on to full blast right after the engine, shivering from the chilly January air as she maneuvered out of her slick leather trench coat. Castle attempted to do the same, slamming his shoulder into the window and hissing as she smothered a laugh. But when he glanced up at her, raindrops hanging from his bangs, skidding down his face, she wasn't laughing anymore.

"What?"

"Nothing. You just…" She reached over, gently slid her fingers over the droplets clinging to his skin, wiping them away.

He was looking at her in that dangerous way, his eyes darkening like the sky, and she self-consciously tried to smooth a hand through her own damp hair. Castle's hand suddenly rose though, knocked hers away and cradled her skull. His thumb skated along her cheekbone, underneath her eye and over the delicate skin there, and she tilted towards him, unable to help it.

He stretched over the console to meet her, guided her mouth to his, and she sighed into the kiss, tasted the rain on his lips and slid her tongue into the warm cove of his mouth. Her hands reached for him, one curling around the lapel of his jacket while the other mirrored his, cupped the side of his face. She wanted him closer, sealed against her. She wanted to crawl over to him, straddle his hips and-

They were parked on the street. A very _public _street. Kate jerked away from him before someone came across her making out with a civilian in her police issued vehicle.

"Kate," he panted, his hand falling from her face to her thigh, squeezing desperately. "I know we don't talk about it, any of it, but for once, can we just break that rule?"

She sighed, covered his hand and clenched his fingers uncertainly, but nodded.

"Might as well finish eating too," she murmured, her voice still a little unsteady, and lifted the bag of food she had placed in the backseat.

* * *

The rain didn't stop, pitter-pattering over her Crown Vic, drowning out the sounds of the city. He found it peaceful, in her car with her and the sheets of rain blocking away everything else for just a little while.

Kate mindlessly circled her fork in her small cup of macaroni and glanced at him sideways, waiting.

They'd had such a rough couple of weeks. Natalie Rhodes, the Nikki Heat wannabe, had shaken them up by kissing him in the elevator. He knew Kate had seen the unexpected lip lock and he knew it had affected her, upset her. So instead of making calls to her that would go unanswered, he had shown up unannounced at her apartment, pleaded his explanation before she could slam the door in his face, and then he had kissed her, shown her just as he had in the past that there was no one else he could want. She had still been less than pleased, but he had strode into her bedroom, retrieved the leather cuffs she kept in her nightstand, and they had worked through the issue in her bed.

And then there had been Ryan's proposal – Ryan's perfect, intimate, tear-jerking proposal. Castle had always believed that such an important event needed extravagance, flair and dramatics; he had always wondered if his quiet approach of asking Kate in the setting of their bedroom at his home in the Hamptons had played a role in her rejection, but he saw it couldn't have. Not when she had tears in her eyes over Ryan's.

He had asked her after a long, but perfect day on the beach. They had just finished dinner with his mother and daughter and had decided to share a bottle of wine on the balcony just outside his room. He had brought the ring with him to the beach home just in case, not actually intending to propose, but it had felt right that evening and so he had taken a chance.

And it had been the wrong move.

But there had been a moment, just a fraction of a second when he was down on one knee and had the diamond ring held out to her, when her eyes had lit up like the stars behind her. For that single moment, he had believed she wanted to say yes. Logic or fear or something more had stolen that idea away though, and her face had become consumed by reluctance, and then denial.

"I didn't listen to you that night, to your side of things, and I never heard your reasons."

Kate chewed on the inside of her cheek, another bad habit, and stared down at her food, already knowing what night he was referring to.

"I was in love with you, I really was," she confessed without looking at him, her eyes trained on her plastic fork. "And I know we'd known each other for nearly two years, but we had only been dating for nine months, and when you asked me to…" She swallowed roughly, her brow creasing into a jagged line of unease. "When you asked me to marry you," she started again. "I just panicked. I wasn't ready for that yet."

Castle nodded, forcing his hands to remain in his lap, not to touch her. She didn't like to be touched when they were having serious conversations.

"Would you have stayed, had I listened?"

"If you'd wanted me to," she murmured, placing the lid back on her macaroni, appetite apparently gone, and shoving it back in the bag of their mixed meals.

"But I stormed off like a… what age was it?"

"Twelve year old," she filled in without missing a beat and he hid a smirk.

"That. And I wish I wouldn't have. I really wish I hadn't let you go, Beckett."

She pushed her fingers though her hair, clasped her hands in a bridge at the back of her neck.

"You just walked away," she said with a hint of accusation in her voice that he couldn't fight. "You shut me out and I thought I was the one with that problem."

It wasn't an attempt at humor and he didn't think his lips would have the energy to lift even if it was. He had destroyed a vast majority of the trust he had spent so long gaining from her, but at the time he had felt so hurt and betrayed, he hadn't even realized the permanent damage he was doing by walking away.

"It was wrong of me, I won't deny that," he concurred with an understanding nod. "But I just felt - it felt like you were rejecting more than the proposal, like you were rejecting me, and I thought it was over. That it had to be the end for us."

"Just because I wasn't ready to marry you?" she asked incredulously, finally looking to him with that vicious hurt in her eyes, always hiding but now front and center.

"Well, it sounds stupid now-"

"It was stupid," she muttered.

"Well, it was also pretty stupid for you to ignore my calls when I tried to apologize for it," he decided to throw back and her nostrils flared for a second before her eyes guiltily flickered away from his to focus on the windshield instead.

"When you walked away, that felt like the end for _me_," she began to explain softly, dropping her gaze to her lap where her fingers fidgeted. "It - it hurt me, and I guess my logic was that talking to you again, attempting to hash it out, would just hurt even more. It felt easier to just ignore it, ignore you, and move on."

Castle knew her almost as well as he knew himself and he had worked out her reasoning for shutting him out long before her admission, but it was like ripping stitches from a healing wound to hear her describe it herself.

"Well, moving on hasn't worked so well for either one of us obviously."

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she reluctantly nodded in agreement.

"But I want to make up for it, Kate, for everything that went wrong between us. I want to fix this."

"What if it isn't fixable?" she sighed tiredly, scrubbing at her eyes with her fingertips, smearing her mascara. "Maybe we imploded for a reason."

He shook his head even though her eyes were back on her hands. Because she sounded like she was giving up on the tentative hope he had seen in her face when he kissed her on the cheek after dinner at Remy's or held her hand in the car on the way to a crime scene. And she couldn't give up on them, on their second chance.

"You know I'm still in love with you, right? That I never stopped?"

She squeezed her eyes shut. He was overwhelming her, but he didn't know how to stop, how to let this go without losing her.

"I don't think I can ever stop."

"Castle, please. Please, just - I can't do this right now."

Irritation flared in his chest, but he swallowed it down.

"Okay," he said instead, feeling all of their progress crumbling.

"I'm not saying… We can still work together."

Castle pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers in something between defeat and frustration, but Beckett surprised him, reached for his tense fingers and clasped them in her own.

"I just need time, Castle. You've been very good to me about it lately," she murmured softly, glancing from his eyes to their hands. "And I know it doesn't make things any easier, but I'm not ready to just dive back in with you."

It felt like a conversation they'd had once before, in her apartment after a fight at his book launch party, back when she had given him her body but little else. She had offered him hope and he had promised to wait.

If he'd done it before he could do it again.

"I can wait."

The firm grip on his hand loosened just slightly, but she still gave it another gentle squeeze.

"After my mother was killed, I built up a lot of walls inside, you know that." He nodded, a slow up and down acknowledgement of gentle understanding. She had opened up about her mother and all the repercussions of her death not long after she had shot Dick Coonan to save him. He knew what the loss of someone so close had done to her, how the grief had consumed everything, how she had barely survived it. "After we broke up, I built more."

The crack in his chest splintered deeper. "Kate-"

Her hand squeezed harder.

"But I think you've always remained inside them."

His eyes snapped up to her, met the warm hazel of her irises. Her lips curved in a timid, but reassuring hint of a smile and he noticed the rain had stopped.

He longed to kiss her, but settled for lifting the back of her hand to his mouth for a brief press of his lips before releasing her. Kate Beckett was it for him, he had doubted it in the past, even hoped against it for the sake of his sanity, but she was his… well, _one and done _wasn't necessarily appropriate from his position. Maybe she would be the charm that came with the third time. The last time.

And he would wait as long as she needed, but deep down, with the way she was looking at him with gratitude and a spectacular brightness in her gorgeous eyes, he had a feeling he wouldn't have to wait very long.


	7. Chapter 7

It was his first time in her new apartment. She had been staying at his loft after her previous home had been blown to pieces, and he had quite liked the living arrangement back then, a lot, but she had still wanted a place of her own and so they had spent her days off apartment hunting. He had seen the temporary studio apartment she had ended up moving into for a few months, but he hadn't been around long enough to view this more permanent one with her.

"Wow, it's perfect," he said softly, taking in how deeply personal the space was – her eclectic taste scattered across the walls and shelves. "It's even better than the last."

"Yeah," she smiled proudly while she retrieved a vase for the flowers he had brought her, the reminiscent shine the vibrant bouquet had evoked still in her eyes, even when she led him across the living room and into her office area a few minutes later.

But the moment she pulled the shutters back from one of the windows, revealed the web of evidence covering every square inch, her eyes darkened and he felt a sharp wave of nausea roll over him.

"When did you start?" he asked, his eyes roving over the crime scene photos, the information on the deceased, the index cards demanding _WHY?_

"Over the summer, while you were in the Hamptons," she mumbled and his heart sank even deeper, into his stomach, drowning in the acid.

"You should have called."

"And said what? Hey babe, I'm falling back down the rabbit hole, think you can come help me out even though we're currently not speaking?"

"I promised you," he said sternly, ignoring her lighthearted attempt at a joke and turning to her instead, placing his hands firmly on her shoulders. "No matter what, I promised you that I would be there, that we would do this together and I – I broke it. Broke us."

His hands fell away, but she caught him by the fingers, reeled him in until his knuckles pressed into her stomach.

"No, no, you didn't. I - I could have stayed," she whispered even though it was only the two of them in the apartment. "I could have answered one of the hundreds of phone calls you made. I'm just as guilty in breaking us, Castle."

His head shook adamantly, not wanting her taking blame for any of it, but she trapped his skull in between her palms, coiled her fingers around his ears, smoothed her thumbs into the soft lobes.

"You're here now. Just be here now."

She moved into him, dropped her hands from his ears to tangle her arms around his waist and wrap herself around his body. Castle cautiously hugged her back, curving a secure arm at her waist while his other hand cradled her head against his chest. Beckett rarely initiated hugs.

"Not going anywhere, Kate."

* * *

He stuck by her side throughout the entire investigation, remaining a solid beam of support for her to lean on whenever she may need, but it was when Ryan and Esposito were taken by the men who wanted her dead that he forced himself to be more than that. He was her partner, that title entailed the right to protect her, and when he saw the sniper aiming for her through a scope, he didn't hesitate.

He was beating the shit out of Hal Lockwood, his fist coming down again and again, the smear of blood warm on his knuckles, the crunch of bone a pleasant shift under his hand and-

"_Castle._"

He jerked upwards at the sound of her voice, saw her staring down at him and the bludgeoned sniper with concern drowning out any traces of light in her eyes.

Kate stepped around Lockwood's unconscious figure and Castle rose up from his knees to meet her, stiffening in momentary surprise when she snaked her arms tight around his neck before snugly fitting her body to his.

"You okay?" she murmured, stroking her fingers at the base of his skull, continuing the motion until his heavy breathing fell into a steady rhythm with hers.

"Never better," he replied, splaying his good hand at her lower back and suppressing the wince of pain as the throb in his curled fist promptly made itself known. "Just got tired of other men scoping you out."

She choked a laugh into his neck, lifted her head and pressed a chaste, impulsive kiss to his mouth before untangling from him and hustling across the warehouse towards Ryan and Esposito, who were both smirking at them like fools despite their visible injuries.

He followed after her, walked with her and the boys to the nearest ambulance before she ushered him towards one of his own, informing the paramedic inside about his hand. The guy had just finished wrapping his knuckles with a bandage that was too tight when she finally crawled inside the van and took the retreating medic's seat across from him.

"Hey there, Chuck Norris," she grinned, stealing his hand away and loosening the wrap he had already begun fiddling with. "How is it?"

"Excruciating," he sighed, watching her long, slender fingers adjusting the bandaging with tender care, brushing unoccupied fingertips at his wrist as she worked. "How's Ryan and Esposito?"

"Mm, mild hypothermia, wounded pride. Guess which one will heal first?" she mused with a playfully arched eyebrow and he smiled back at her.

She finished securing the bandage and delicately smoothed her thumbs along the white material before bringing his covered knuckles to her lips. It was just a moment, a brief graze of her mouth over his injury, but it made his heart skip.

"Thank you," she said, lowering their hands to her lap. "For having my back in there."

"Always," he answered her without hesitation, and for a second she looked breathless.

"Can I come home with you tonight?" she asked quietly, her thumb circling around his shyly and he pinned the digit to the webbing between his thumb and forefinger.

There was no mystery to what his answer would be, he would never deny her, but part of him faltered, the thought of having her tonight and losing her tomorrow until the next life affirming situation occurred gnawing at him.

He was tired of wondering about their relationship, about hoping for more. He loved her, but he was so very tired.

"Of course."

* * *

Her eyes had remained on his injured hand the entire way to his loft, the memory of how it had gotten that way playing on repeat in her mind, but when he hooked their fingers in the elevator, led her to the door of his home, she stopped thinking.

Once sure neither his mother nor daughter were lingering inside, she reached for him, crashed into him a little too frantically, but he caught her, gave it all back.

But it wasn't long before his kisses slowed, his hands withdrew, and his forehead fell to the frame of the door beside her head.

"Castle?" she panted uncertainly, lifting a hand to his nape in concern, but he shook it off.

"I can't do this with you, not again."

She was pinned against his front door, his thigh between her legs and his lips against her neck, pushing words into her skin that she didn't understand.

"W-what?" she stuttered, swallowing down the breathless quality to her voice and looking up at him in confusion. "But I thought you wanted-"

"I want all of you, not pieces."

Kate shrugged him off, couldn't have this conversation with his body pressed to hers. She had to have a clear head for this and she hadn't been thinking with great clarity since he had kissed her for the sake of a ruse in the parking lot.

They had just returned from the warehouse, where he had taken a sniper to the ground and beaten him with his bare hands, and she just wanted him.

She wanted all of him, too.

But there was still a tiny, wounded voice in the back of her mind reminding her of how he had walked out on her without a second glance, how easy it had been for him to give up that night. How was she supposed to believe he would be able to handle a relationship with her again?

"I just - I can't, Kate. Not anymore." He sighed, scrubbed a hand across his eyes before locking his gaze firmly on his office doorway, away from her. "You can sleep in the guest room for the night," he muttered, but she grabbed at his lapels before he could walk away from her.

"I told you I loved you, what more do you want?" she replied in exasperation.

He looked taken aback and then irritated. "When?"

"On the phone, when you were being held by Tyson. You told me you loved me and I said I loved you too," she argued vehemently, because even though it may not be a big deal to him, it was to her. They hadn't discussed it since the night 3XK had escaped, but she still remembered their phone conversation - what she had thought would be their last conversation - clearly.

"You only said that because you knew he was listening," he grumbled and Kate released a frustrated huff.

"I said it because I meant it. I love you back, Castle," she confessed quietly, her eyes slipping to the ground when she felt his land intently on her. "It scares the shit out of me sometimes, but-"

He kissed her, kissed her hard and desperate, and she sighed in relief, slumped against the door and let him prop her up.

"You still love me?" he mumbled against her lips, nipping and grinning at the groan his teeth elicited with such ease.

She nodded. "Yeah, Castle. I love you."

He smiled, a full spread of his lips that showed his teeth and caused his eyes to sparkle, and she traced her thumb over it, smiled back at him.

"I don't think I ever stopped."


	8. Chapter 8

She knew once she told him she loved him, they would be crossing that line she had been so wary of coming anywhere close to since they had begun doing this dance again. There was no going back, no more one foot out the door just to be safe, and as he walked her backwards, past the threshold of his bedroom, she accepted she didn't ever want to return to the way things were.

She wanted to dive in with him. For good this time.

Kate took a step back from him and lifted her turtleneck, tugged the grey cashmere over her head and dropped it to the armchair by the entryway while his fingers fumbled along the buttons of his shirt, the white bandage entering her vision and reminding her to be careful of his brutalized hand. She gently knocked his fingers away and glided her own down the trail of buttons with ease until his dress shirt was hanging open and she could smooth her hands along the warm expanse of bared flesh.

She pressed her cheek to his, dusted a kiss to the tender spot below his ear and felt his good hand in her hair, weaving through the strands to massage at her scalp and she hummed, nipped at the stubble he had yet to shave away.

Her fingers trickled down to his belt and pushed at the black fabric of his slacks. Castle stepped out of his shoes, his socks, and then his pants, until he stood in only his underwear and she palmed the front of his navy silk boxers, releasing a throaty chuckle as the hand in her hair slid down to her nape and squeezed hard. He retaliated with his injured hand at her back, his fingers still functional enough to unclasp her bra and slide the satin down her arms. She felt the bandage scratch against her skin and she tilted her head upwards, blindly searching for his mouth, but landing a kiss against his cheekbone instead, and then closer to his nose before finally finding his lips.

She wound an arm around his waist, sucked his upper lip into her mouth and moaned in the same exact way she had in the parking lot earlier that night. The sound had him jerking her closer, crushing her against him and taking everything from her. She had abstained from losing herself in him - in the aggressive kiss he had pushed against her lips and the possessive hold he had drawn her into - during their little ruse, too intent on the purpose it served in saving Ryan and Esposito, but now she let him wipe her mind clean with the scorch of his fingers and the sweep of his tongue.

She fell back on her elbows when the backs of her knees hit the edge of the mattress and Castle swiftly knelt down to slide her boots off and yank her unzipped pants down her legs until they were both in their underwear, equal in their state of undress. But Kate quickly sat up, shimmied the lace thong past her legs and then proceeded to tug his boxers down so they pooled at his ankles.

He crawled over her and she threaded her fingers through the soft strands of his hair, kissing him languidly as he positioned them higher on the bed, so that when she dropped backwards her head fell into his pillow.

Kate closed her hand around him once he was situated between her legs, stroked the firm length of his arousal just to feel the growl he released against her swollen lips. She smiled and tilted her hips up, positioned him at her entrance, and moved her hand to splay at his back, over the branches of bone and muscle that led to his scapula. He didn't tease or make her wait tonight and she was grateful for the effortless push of his length inside her.

It had been an exhausting night, an exhausting few months really, and all she wanted was the weight of his body moving with hers, pulling pleasure from every orifice of her flesh, and then she wanted to curl up with him in the sweat stained sheets and sleep for a few uninterrupted hours.

Her fingers fisted in his hair and her nails cut into his back at the long, deliberate measure of his strokes, but she didn't rush or try to hurry their pace. Instead, she used her toes to propel her body upwards in time with his, meeting his thrusts in a well-practiced dance.

"Say it again," he murmured into the hollow of her cheek, nipping at her ear and grinning when her breathing fell shallow, an uninhibited little gasp slipping free.

But Kate recovered a piece of the shaky control he stole so well, hooked her legs around his in a move she had learned in combat training years ago, and flipped him over with fluent ease.

She grinded down, clenching around him and watching with a smirk as his eyes rolled back before leaning forward, pressing her lips to his ear.

"I love you," she whispered and smiled when he turned his head to catch her upturned lips, kissing her softly until she undulated her hips and he choked on a breath. "I love you, Rick."

Her body draped over his, her breasts crushed against his chest, and his hands slithered down her sides to cup her ass, short nails carving crescents into her flesh as her body adeptly rolled into his.

The intensity of their movements slowly dwindled down into something more reverent as she stared down at him, noses touching and lips brushing, ardent but just as intoxicating. Even the orgasm that washed over them was like the pleasant caress of a flame, sending her head into the crook of his neck as the fire spread and she tried to find her breath, calm the heavy slam of her heart against her heaving ribs.

"I love you too." She heard him murmur over the rush of blood settling in her ears and Kate grinned against his throat as she let the words soak into her skin and settle inside the unprotected walls of her heart. "So much, Kate."

She nuzzled his neck, dipped a kiss into the hollow of his throat, and slid off of him. His breath was still unsteady, his heart still stampeding in his chest when she placed her palm there, but Castle cupped the back of her skull, kissed her long and leisurely.

When she broke away, he had a blissful smile firmly in place.

"How's the hand?" she whispered, feeling guilty for almost forgetting about the injury completely.

His eyes narrowed in confusion for a moment before they brightened with clarity. Apparently, she had not been the only one to neglect his bruised skin and battered bones.

"Oh," he murmured, lifting his bandaged knuckles from his side to rest on his abdomen. "Fine. Honestly the last thing on my mind."

"I'm sure that won't be the case tomorrow when the effect of sex and medication has worn off," she smirked, but he waved her off, hooked his foot in the tangled sheets and comforter at the edge of the bed and hauled them closer.

"You'll just have to take care of me then," he winked, draping the bedding over them both and curving an arm at her waist when she turned on her side away from him, fitting his chest to her bare back.

"Don't worry, Castle," she yawned, lazily sweeping her nails through the soft plains of hair on his forearm. "I've got your back."

He brushed one last kiss to the skin of her nape before she felt his forehead press against her shoulder blade, how he usually slept when he was curled up behind her like this.

They hadn't shared space this intimately in a while now, always too cautious and careful with one another. They hadn't even shared a bed since the summer. The last couple of months, he had always been kind enough to leave after sex at her place and she had never possessed the courage to stay at his, always politely declining if he had the nerve to ask.

She huffed at her previous actions, circled his wrist with her thin fingers in an apology that he wouldn't possibly understand, but he dusted his fingertips at her navel in response.

"Kate," he mumbled, sleep already lacing his voice. "It's okay. Stop thinking."

She sighed, brought his wrist to her lips and grazed a kiss to the bone before lowering their tangled hands to rest between her breasts.

She loved him. He loved her. It wasn't so scary anymore.

* * *

The pale morning light filtering through the window had him blinking awake, but it was the sight of her naked back bent over the side of his bed that had his eyes remaining peeled open.

"Kate," he rasped, sliding his hand over the curve of her side, wincing when his knuckles throbbed at the action. "I thought Montgomery gave you the day off."

"He did," she murmured quietly, but not ceasing in her rummaging around under the side of his bed, searching for her bra he was sure. He doubted she would find it, he had kicked it pretty far under the bed for a reason.

He snuck a glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table, wanted to groan when he saw it was barely six a.m.

"Then why are you awake?"

"I'm going to head over to Sing Sing, interview Hal Lockwood."

The last tendrils of sleep slipped away from him, releasing their hold and surrendering him to full wakefulness and worry.

"Beckett."

"Castle," she parroted back, finally turning over to face him. She looked exhausted and he wondered how long she must have lain awake beside him, thinking about her mother and that makeshift murder board hidden behind shutters back at her apartment.

"Do you remember, before, when we made that deal?"

Her eyebrows drew together for just a moment before clarity had them straightening out and protest rose in her eyes.

"Rick, I'm fine. I don't-"

"You didn't want to fall back down the rabbit hole, you didn't want to become obsessed to the point where your own judgment faltered," he continued on despite the way her bottom lip started to quake. "And you promised me that if I thought that was going to happen, I had the right to pull you away. To make you stop."

"It was different then," she mumbled, but he caught the fingers in the sheets between them, tugged her hand to his chest to keep her from withdrawing.

"You'll be in that prison week after week, Beckett. You'll never let it go until he cracks and we both know he won't."

Her lips pursed in irritation and she shook her head at him, like he had betrayed her by speaking a truth she did not want to hear.

"I should have made you stop the day you slammed Vulcan Simmons into the mirror."

Shame had her eyes flashing downwards, but he wasn't trying to make her feel guilty. He had seen her after a bout with this case, after she had killed Coonan. He had seen the box filled with mementos and photos of her mother and how the ferocious _need _for justice ate her alive from the inside out like a parasite. He had held her through nightmares and a really difficult Mother's Day last spring. He had seen her at her worst, _torn up _like Montgomery had said, and he knew she couldn't just let it go, but he was the one who had done this to her, the least he could do was attempt to keep her afloat in the sea of desperation. And that meant keeping her away from any more triggering situations.

Visiting Hal Lockwood struck him as one of those situations.

Kate freed her hand from his and twined her arm around his neck instead, used his body as leverage to haul herself across the space between them, and dropped her head to the middle of his chest. He cradled her skull with one hand, traced the other down her spine to settle at the small of her back. It wasn't like her, to seek out contact like this when she was in disagreement with him.

"I just want the truth," she whispered, her voice choked and he held her just a little tighter. "She deserves it, she deserves the truth, Rick," she moaned, the visceral pain laced in her words setting up a fault line in his heart.

"We'll find the truth, we will, Kate, I swear to you," he breathed into the hair covering her ear. "But without you dying for your cause, because when we were in that coffee shop-"

Her arms squeezed at his neck and it helped dispel the image of her with blood spatter splayed across her chest, over the area where her heart resided unprotected.

"We'll never find the truth if we run away," she murmured in what felt like her last dying argument and he sighed, rolled them over so she was on her back and he was hovering above her.

"We'll never find the truth if we're dead," he countered gently, brushing the layers of her hair back behind her ear. "We're not running away, we're not giving up. The truth is out there and we will find it. Just not today."

Her eyes glistened, but she reluctantly nodded her acceptance.

"Will you-" She swallowed, flicked her gaze away from him for a moment before releasing a shaky breath and smoothing her hands along his biceps. "Will you distract me for the day? I can't – I need to not think about it."

He lifted an eyebrow. "I don't know if I have the stamina to distract you the _entire _day, Beckett."

"Not like that," she huffed, but her lips turned upwards and that had really been his only ambition, to induce at least a shimmer of amusement. "I meant, can we just spend the day being normal?"

"We've never been normal," he teased affectionately. "But we can try."

She grinned and he felt her legs kick the sheets downwards, freeing them to wrap around his waist. "I want to go to that new bookstore that opened up a few blocks from my place and then maybe…" Her breath expelled unsteadily from her lungs but just like always, she chased away the uncertainty with determination. "Maybe we can work on taking down the murder board in my apartment."

He could have wept with the relief of her suggestion, but instead he just smiled gently at her in agreement.

"After lunch?"

She nodded, her eyes lightening to a soft gold at the forming plans for their day and he lowered his head, kissed her nose and chuckled when her forehead scrunched in disapproval.

"But first…" She tilted her hips upwards and smirked at him when his breath hitched. "Distract me, Castle."


	9. Chapter 9

For once it was his phone that woke them.

"Who's it?" she muttered, burying her face in his pillow as he extricated his arm from around her waist to stretch for the nightstand on her side of her bed. He looked down at his iPhone screen with confusion.

"An old friend of mine," he said, his voice still gruff with sleep but coming alive with perplexity.

"Old friend know what time it is?" she grumbled because any friend that called at five in the morning was no friend of hers.

Castle shot her an apologetic glance and slipped his fingers into her hair as he answered the call.

"Damian," he greeted, soothingly stroking his fingers through her tousled locks, grazing her scalp with his short nails, and she closed her eyes, pressed her forehead into his hip. "Nice to hear from you, is everything-"

Kate's eyes opened at the pause, lifted to study Castle's face in the early morning darkness as his features contorted with uncertainty.

"I – yeah, I do have a working relationship with the NYPD."

His hand fell away and she raised her head, curling her fingers at his thigh to steal his attention. She already didn't like the sound of this.

"Sure, give me half an hour."

"Wait, what's going on?" she questioned as he began to unfurl the sheet tangled around his waist. "Why is this guy asking about your connection to the police?"

"Damian Westlake is my old friend from boarding school. His wife was murdered this morning and I think the officers on the scene are treating him like he's a suspect," he explained incredulously, tugging open the early Valentine's day gift she had given him - a drawer for his belongings at her place.

She shrugged even though he wasn't paying attention to her. "Well, maybe he is one."

Castle stopped in his tracks and gave her a disbelieving glare over his shoulder, as if she had spoken something highly offensive.

"Kate, this guy would never kill his wife. He wouldn't kill anybody."

"How can you say that? You know just as well as I do that-"

"Not him," he insisted, vehemently, defensively, surprising her a little.

She opened her mouth to argue just as her phone began to vibrate, dancing across her nightstand and causing the already present tension between them to spike. When she saw it was dispatch calling, she said a silent prayer that she would not receive the case of Damien Westlake's murdered wife.

Her prayers went unanswered.

Castle looked uneasy as he waited for her to get dressed, but when she stepped into her heels, he caught her by the hips, brought her against him for a kiss that made her wish they could crawl back into her bed and press the reset button on this morning.

He kissed her like they were going into battle.

"At least now I can tell Damian the finest detective in New York City is working his wife's case," Castle pointed out lightheartedly as he dropped his lips to her forehead before stepping away, but the dread was a heavy stone in her stomach.

Castle was already too involved, too emotionally invested with a biased view that could interfere with her investigation. They had butted heads on cases before, but when it became personal – which it almost always did with them – it was dangerous.

They were going into battle alright, probably with each other.

* * *

She hated his stupid espresso machine. Drinking the brown sludge their old coffeemaker brewed was better than dealing with the uncooperative, complicated, over extravagant appliance that always burned her hand with its random fits of steam. She had probably just pressed the wrong button, but as far as she was concerned, it was his fault the contraption had seared her fingers. All his fault, everything.

"Can I give you a hand with that?"

Kate squared her jaw at the sound of his voice in the break room's entryway, soft and apprehensive, but she was still so angry with him. He had questioned her ethics as a cop, turned her into the villain for doing her job and it _hurt _coming from him, because he was supposed to be her partner, the person who stood beside her and her judgment without question. He was supposed to be on her side.

But he was most definitely not. And neither was his coffee machine.

"I got it," she snapped, trying again to coax the machine into just giving her one damn cup of caffeine before she lost her mind.

"You just have to-"

"I _said _I got it."

As if to spite her, the contraption blew again and she struggled to contain the billowing steam to no avail, feeling her face flush in frustration and embarrassment. But then he was coming up behind her, pressing his back to her chest, working his arms around her to get at the plethora of buttons. His fingers moved efficiently and the beautiful dark liquid came streaming out of the spout with no trouble.

Stupid, prejudiced machine.

She huffed, but Castle wrapped his arms around her waist, held onto her before she could escape and brushed a chaste kiss to the side of her neck.

"I hate fighting with you."

It wasn't an apology.

"What are you doing here?" she sighed, keeping her eyes on her filling cup.

She had told him to go home after they had fought in this very same room yesterday and he had stormed off without protest, fuming over her unjust investigation and how she was just another clueless cop slandering his friend. She felt foolish for it, but she had still expected him to call that evening, like he always did when they spent a night apart, and when he hadn't, she'd fallen asleep with tears staining her pillow.

She hated fighting with him too.

"When I told Damian the best detective in New York was working his wife's case, I meant it. And I'm - I'm sorry to have doubted you," he murmured into her skin, his thumbs working in slow circles over her abdomen. "If you let me back, I promise I will do my best to remain objective."

Kate repressed the scoff, but untangled his arms from her waist, retrieved her finally made cup of coffee, and started for the conference room overflowing with Westlake's financial records – more seemingly damning evidence for Castle's idolized friend.

"That may be harder than you think."

* * *

The next day, as Damian Westlake was escorted into a police cruiser for the murder of his father all those years ago, she waited for him in the glow of red and blue against the building. Castle came down the concrete stairs with his shoulders slumped and his head down, such heavy disappointment claiming his usually bright face.

"I'm sorry I ruined our Valentine's Day," was the first thing he said once he reached her and she cocked her head to the side.

"It isn't ruined," she murmured, subtly slipping her hands inside his pea coat, splaying her fingers over the cage of his ribs. "I still plan on taking you out to a candlelit dinner in a couple of hours, wearing that new dress I bought last week, and seducing you into spending the night with me."

He arched an eyebrow, but grinned down at her – some of that sadness dissipating. She knew his heart wouldn't be all in tonight, that a part of him would mourn his misplaced trust in someone he had grown up admiring so greatly, but that was okay. She could be there for him through this.

"Walk you home?" he asked and she nodded, hiding their intertwined hands in one of his coat pockets.

"About what you said the other day," she started as they strolled away from the Westlake's apartment and further down the sidewalk, because this had been bothering her since the moment it had come out of his mouth and she had been waiting for the right moment to bring it up. "You would still be a writer. No matter if Damian had encouraged you all those years ago or not, I'm positive you still would have become an amazing writer, Castle. Because someone would have seen your talent sooner or later, someone would have believed in you just as much as Damian had, just like I do now. You would still be you."

They had come to a stop at the crosswalk and he was staring down at her, love and gratitude brimming in his clearing blue eyes, and she wished they were already at her apartment so she could take him upstairs with her, have a little pre-dinner date.

"You believe in me?"

She huffed a gentle laugh, took a moment to affectionately palm the side of his face.

"Of course."

"Thank you, Kate," he replied softly, glancing behind them at the officers already driving away before dusting a kiss to her temple. "For the record, I believe in you too."

* * *

Castle showed up at her apartment later that evening to pick her up for their dinner date with an armful of white lilies - her favorites. He wasn't completely recovered from watching his mentor be led away in handcuffs, but seeing Kate so brilliantly dressed and flushed with excitement did lift his spirits.

He hadn't treated her too fairly over the last few days, he hadn't even been sure tonight was still going to happen after how he had acted, but after they had come to a truce amidst the investigation, she had reminded him of how understanding she could be. She had reminded him that she wanted to be there through everything, even the difficult parts, be his partner. The apologies that she had waved off earlier as he had walked her to her apartment still felt inadequate.

"Ready?" he asked once she had replaced the old flowers with the fresh bouquet in the vase on her kitchen countertop.

She answered, but he was too distracted to catch her words. He couldn't help marveling at the sinfully tight, deep purple dress she wore. The silk fabric was so soft under his fingers when he slid his hands to her waist, and as they smoothed across her back and he felt the deliciously bare expanse of her skin, he was tempted to convince her that they spend the holiday in her bedroom.

"C'mon Castle," she chuckled knowingly, placing her hands on his chest and walking him backwards towards the door. "Feed me first."

"Oh, wait," he murmured before she could quite literally push him out the door.

Their last Valentine's Day together had been stinted and awkward, the two of them still new at this relationship thing, and he had been too afraid to buy her anything, too afraid to overstep, but this year he produced a jewelry box from the inside of his suit jacket.

Her eyes flickered down to the gift in his hand.

"It's not a ring, promise," he said as she accepted the little black box and Kate rolled her eyes at the assurance, but flipped the lid open nonetheless.

Castle watched her hopefully as the amusement left her face and her lips parted in soft surprise.

"I know it's not as special, not like the gift you gave me, but when I saw it, it - it reminded me of you, and you could still probably wear it at the precinct since it's not too flashy and-"

"It's perfect," she whispered, lifting one hand to his cheek and carefully extracting the bracelet with the other.

He had never put much thought into buying a gift for a woman, usually just picking the most eye-catching necklace or the most sparkling pair of earrings in the store, or even giving them the money to buy a present for themselves (at least that had been the easiest course of action with Meredith), but Kate was different. Kate was special and he had wanted sincere thought put into what he bought her, especially after she had given him a piece of her space earlier in the week. He already had some room in her closet, but the gesture of owning one of the drawers in her bedroom felt more intimate and meaningful and he wanted his gift to match.

He had spent _days _searching, quickly giving up on browsing in well-known places like Harry Winston or Tiffany's, and eventually ending up scouring the internet instead. When he ventured on to a site of handmade, designer jewelry one night, it took him all of ten seconds to spot it.

The unique, gold bracelet made up of thick, braided brown thread and rows of skull heads had caught his eye immediately and he had ordered the jewelry before he could think better of it. It had been such a far step from his comfort zone to purchase something he _thought _she might like and for a week, he regretted the decision and almost bought her diamonds.

He was glad he had stuck with the skull bracelet.

"I love it," she beamed up at him, withdrawing her hand from his face and fastening the bracelet around her wrist. He helped when her fingers fumbled, smoothed his thumb over her metacarpal bones. "I love it," she repeated, drawing him down for a kiss, taking a moment to sweep her tongue past his lips, stroked it over his in a maddeningly slow form of gratitude.

She slid her hand down his arm, tangled their fingers, and guided him out the door.

And despite the last few days – the fighting, the accusations, the sadness – they still had a nice dinner in a romantic, but secluded restaurant in Tribeca. She still flirted with him, convinced him to come home with her – as if he had planned to do otherwise – and when they returned to her apartment, she slammed his back into her front door.

"Beckett," he chuckled between the sloppy kisses she smeared across his lips, his jaw, his throat. "Slow down."

She'd had too much wine with their shared dessert - her favorite brand, the kind that made her body all warm and loose and needy - and he had been forced to endure the longest taxi ride of his life with her body pressed against his, her lips assaulting him incessantly with ferocious intent.

"Shh, Castle," she grinned, nipping at his ear. "I've been waiting all day to cheer you up."

He stilled her for just a moment, held her body to his in the form of a hug, because he had almost forgotten the kind of day they had endured before this, how miserable he had been. She made him forget all the bad and embrace the good.

He loved her.

"You already cheered me up, Beckett."

He lifted her up, took her to bed, and made sure she knew how grateful he was.


	10. Chapter 10

He had always liked winter, always believed that the cold air kept his senses sharp and focused. But that was because he had never felt what cold truly was, not until he was locked in a freezer on the brink of death with the woman he loved wasting away in his lap. He had never known the feeling of losing sensation inside his body in a torturously slow manor, of the icy burn that spread along every inch of his skin before numbness consumed his flesh. He had never known how the cold could sedate his mind, turning every thought into a struggle for concentration. He had never expected the cold to be the obstacle that took her from him.

No, he was no longer a fan of the cold whatsoever. He _hated _the cold. As soon as they got out of this mess, they were moving to a tropical island and lying out under the boiling sun until every place the frost had touched was thawed completely.

"Castle, are you - are you there?" she managed to stammer out through the harsh trembling of her lips and he tried to squeeze her shoulder, didn't know if his fingers cooperated or not.

"Right here, right here, Kate."

She shivered violently and he attempted to haul her closer, her stiff body already in his lap, her knees frozen at his hips. Her face was buried in his neck, but he could still feel when she turned her head just slightly, her brittle lips moving against his skin.

"Can't feel anything."

No, no, that wasn't good. The shivers of her body had already decreased from constant to barely there - a shudder wracking her frame only every few minutes. Her lithe body was giving up, freezing from the outside in and if he lost her-

"I always thought being a cop, I'd take a bullet," she admitted through the chatter of her teeth and Castle's eyes closed for a moment, forcing the image of her with a bullet in her chest, in any part of her body, to stay away.

"Never thought I'd freeze to death."

"Hey. Don't say that. Don't - don't talk like this is it."

"Is," she rasped, her icy nose pressing against his jaw and he tried not to jerk away from her. "Maybe it is."

"Kate, we're going to make it out of here," he insisted, having to pause for a moment, allow the jagged touch of ice filling his throat to recede. "You and me. We're going to have a life together. The one we should have had before. Before I screwed it up."

"No." The word slipped out of her on an exhale. "You didn't. Both."

It took some concentration, but he was able to press his lips to her skin. She tasted like ice and frost and a bitter chill, but he kept his mouth against her temple.

"If - if we get out…"

"Yes," he urged.

"Marry me."

His dull thudding heart struggled to excel, to soar at her words, but all he could do was nod his head against hers.

"In a heartbeat."

She was quiet then and he had to shake himself, shake her, until he felt the frozen blades of her ice encrusted lashes brush against his cheek.

"You have to stay with me," he pleaded. He knew he was better off than she was. That despite having her wrapped snug around his body, giving her every ounce of heat he could, she would die first.

She sighed, a soft little whimper clattering free. "I just wish this was one of your books and you could rewrite the ending," she whispered, the hands tucked underneath his shirt squeezing at his sides and he clamped his elbows down on them, trying to preserve the frozen stems of her fingers.

"I'm sorry, I'm s-so sorry, love."

"For what?"

"F-for being me. Going rogue. Getting you into - into this. If we hadn't gone - gone rogue-"

He could barely feel it, but her fragile fingers attempted a jerky caress over the frigid skin covering his ribs.

"Shh, Castle, no. Okay? You were right. We found the bomb. We were just too late, okay?"

He couldn't accept that. There was still too much for them, still so much for them to do together. They were finally on the right path, she wanted to marry him, and he couldn't lose her now, not like this.

"Castle." One of her hands left his side, slithered unsteadily up to rest at the tip of his chin. "Thank you... for being there."

He tilted his chin down, kissing her trembling fingertips.

"Always, remember?" he smiled, felt his lips crack with it.

Her head lifted just a fraction, her nose turned into his cheek, her eyes fluttering closed.

"I love you. Just - just know. Love..."

Her sentence trailed, her fingers fell away.

"Kate?"

Nothing.

She wasn't talking, wasn't moving, nothing.

"Kate. Stay with me." His hand stroked over her hair, fingers catching in the frozen tendrils. "You have to stay with me. Can't - not without you."

But she didn't rouse, remained limp and lifeless atop him, no color to her face, no life in her body, a ghost in his arms, and the panic started to flare in his gut - weak and slow as it was, as everything was.

She was still alive, he could still feel the faint thud of her heartbeat, but she was unconscious and that was a grim sign. Castle tried to bundle her up closer, pulled her in tighter against him, sharing any drop of warmth that may be left in his blood, but after what he assumed were minutes, he started to drift into the darkness. The darkness was warm, comforting and soft, so much nicer than the harsh chill of the freezer. It wasn't long before he was drowning in it, barely able to open his eyes.

Maybe it was the end, he thought as the blackness descended. At least it ended with her.

* * *

The first thing he registered when consciousness flooded back to him was that he could barely feel his hands. He could see them at his sides but they were useless, clumsy and heavy, like they weren't properly attached to his wrists.

The next was that he was alone; Kate was not here.

"Where is she?" he grunted instantly, his lungs rattling like oddly shaped icicles in his chest as he jerked upwards against the paramedic attempting to keep him down. He was prepared to stagger out of this damn ambulance and search until he found her. "Where-"

"Castle."

The invisible sheen of ice he still felt coating his skin melted a little at the sound of her voice.

"You're okay," he breathed, reaching out for her as she climbed inside the ambulance and went straight for his cot, shooting the paramedic a warning glare when he tried to protest.

"So are you," she sighed, exhaustion and relief lacing along her words as she sat down beside him, instantly sliding her arms around his waist and nuzzling his neck, her nose still freezing, but he cuddled her closer, wrapped his own blanket around her even though she already had one draped over her shoulders. "Lay with you for a bit?"

He nodded, already lowering the two of them down on the one-person gurney, curling securely around her back.

"Fallon's here?" he asked quietly, because he was sure he had caught a glimpse of the Homeland Security agent standing outside.

She nodded. "He wants to debrief with us, but I told him to give us a minute."

He hugged her tighter in appreciation, because he could definitely use a minute, maybe more. They had nearly died – not that _that_ was anything new – and it had been close this time. Really close. All he wanted to do was take her back to the loft and lock her in their bedroom for a few days, keep her warm and protect her from the world and the cold and all the constant dangers that sought them out on a monthly basis, but there was still so much to do. There was a _bomb_ out there, and he would swallow the fear, stand by her side as they worked to save the city, but he just needed a few minutes with her first. The universe owed him this much.

* * *

He took a sip of the beer, wrinkled his nose a little at the mixture of taste it made with the single slice of pizza he had devoured. Kate had yet to eat any and when he tried to offer her a piece, she had shaken her head.

"You guys don't know how lucky you are," Esposito commented after the two of them had finished recalling the events of finding the bomb and stopping the a nuclear disaster. Castle looked to her again, watched as she stepped closer and laid her hand atop his shoulder.

"Actually," she murmured, smiling down at him while her thumb traced a slow circle over the skin of his neck. "I do."

They hadn't made any declarations to the boys or Montgomery, but there was an unspoken understanding that the two of them had reconciled as more than just partners in the Twelfth. They had done a less than great job at hiding it to begin with and judging by the reactions from their precinct family, they didn't really need to. _Just no making out in my station_ was the only indiscrete warning Montgomery had given them one afternoon when they were the only two left in the bullpen.

Agent Fallon knocked on the door a few minutes later, asked to see Castle and Beckett outside, and Kate's hand fell away as they shared an apprehensive look. But Fallon only thanked them, in his own subtle, nondescript way, but then they were alone again and Castle turned to face her.

"Hell of a day, huh?"

He could tell she was ready to go home. Sharing a beer with the captain and the boys had been nice, but they'd hardly had a real moment to themselves in the last 48 hours and he wouldn't mind some seclusion.

"Putting it lightly," she grinned, tugging on his hand, leading him away from the break room and all its prying eyes, towards her desk where she grabbed both of their coats before heading straight for the elevator. "Are Alexis and Martha back yet?"

"Not until morning," he answered, accepting his coat from her and slipping his arms through.

"Too bad," she sighed, leaning into his side once the elevator doors had slid to a close. "Alexis makes killer chicken noodle soup."

"Hey," he huffed. "I make it just as good."

She smirked, hiding their loosely entwined fingers between them as they walked through the lobby, past the desk sergeant on duty, and out into the streets. Kate shivered involuntarily once they were in the cool, evening air, and Castle wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

She smiled up at him, small but grateful before it turned challenging.

"Prepared to prove it?"

"Of course, Beckett. I'll have you warmed up in no time."

* * *

They took a cab to his loft, too impatient to head for the subway and too worn to drive. She had felt somewhat untrusting of her limbs and the control she had over them, just like this morning when she could barely pour her own coffee. Now the adrenaline was completely gone and it left her muscles somewhat twitchy and sometimes too slow to react. She had looked ashamed of it, but he would never hold it against her, not when his body felt the same way. He didn't mind the chance to hold her close in the back of a taxi either.

In his loft, she went straight for the bedroom, changing into warmer clothing, while he went for the thermostat, increasing the heat. He made the soup he promised her, and she helped, chopping carrots and celery and cubing chicken as he boiled the noodles and seasoned the broth.

"Think we could beat Alexis in a cook off now?" he asked once they were settled on the couch and she grinned as she sipped slowly from her spoon, savored the heat of the liquid sluicing down the lovely line of her throat.

He felt his body course with sudden arousal, warmth that flushed through his bloodstream and eradicated some of the chill still residing in his veins. Watching her eat soup was never supposed to be so erotic.

"Perhaps. We make a pretty good team, even in the kitchen," she replied, tucking her feet under his thigh and he squeezed her ankle.

She finished her bowl and he offered to make her coffee, tea, hot chocolate - anything that would aid in warming her further - but she declined and retired to his bedroom when he insisted on taking her dishes for her.

He took his time washing the bowls and the silverware in the kitchen sink, the warm water a pleasant balm for his hands, and when he followed in her footsteps, entered his bedroom, he found her curled tightly in his bed, still shivering. She lifted her eyes when she noticed him and he hated the helplessness he saw seeping from her dulled irises.

She was wearing his sweatpants, his sweatshirt, even his socks, and she was still trembling in the nest of bedding they had made together the previous night in the middle of his mattress. He didn't know how to fix this, wasn't sure what else he could do.

"Want another blanket?" he inquired gently, because he knew she did, but she shook her head.

"We have the thermostat cranked up to 90 degrees, you made us hot soup, and we're both bundled in winter clothing. I shouldn't need another blanket."

He grabbed another blanket.

She huffed, but welcomed him when he crawled back into the bed with her.

"It's like it's in my fucking bones," she growled, burying her face in his chest and he hugged her tight, briskly ran his hands up and down her bowed spine to elicit some heat there.

"I know the feeling," he murmured, because he felt it too – the frost lining his bones, crusted and unshakable. He knew on some level it was psychological, but that didn't stop him from shivering.

"Can you feel yet?"

He flexed his hands over her back, the worn fabric of his sweatshirt brushing his numb fingertips, only eliciting slight sensation. He had suffered from a touch of frostbite along each of his fingers. It wasn't serious, feeling would return, but it was an uncomfortable, weird sensation to touch without truly feeling.

"Almost."

She reached around, stole one of his hands from her back and toyed with the broad fingers. He wiggled them as he settled back against the headboard with her in his lap, her shoulder pressing into his clavicle while her head rested just under his chin.

Kate examined his hand for a moment, as if the numbness was visible, and then she brought his index finger to her lips, puckered them against his digit.

"Feel that?"

"Little bit."

She repeated the action, adding a gentle nip of her teeth.

"Pretty sure that felt even better."

She chuckled, repeated the action along his other frost nipped digits, but then she dusted her lips along the fourth finger of his left hand, and looked up at him through her lashes.

He hadn't forgotten what she had said in the freezer.

_Marry me._

But he hadn't had the courage to bring it up either.

"Ask me when we're not cold anymore."

Castle nodded, a little too eagerly, and she tilted her chin upwards, sought his mouth and moaned in the same beautifully drawn out way she had when she threw her arms around him after he had impulsively – accidentally – stopped a bomb from detonating the city.

His hand slipped under her shirt, spread broadly across her stomach, but she shuddered when he began moving the material upwards.

"It's fine," she murmured when he pulled his hand away, but he shook his head and untangled himself from her and the plethora of blankets. "Castle?"

He was already trotting into his bathroom, called over his shoulder, "Come with me."

Rick reached inside the shower, adjusted the water to as hot as it could go without burning them, and then backtracked to the thermostat by the door.

"I always forget you have heated floors," she stated with a small grin when she entered the bathroom and felt the tile warming under her feet.

"So do I," he chuckled, because even in the winter, he always managed to forget about the convenient addition made to his bathroom a couple of years ago.

"You're showering?" she asked when he stripped his shirt off.

"So are you," he quipped, stepping out of his jeans and staring at her expectantly in his boxers. She sighed, as if this was another one of his dumber ideas, and reluctantly undressed, folding his clothes on the bathroom counter and wrapping her arms around her naked flesh.

Castle took her hand and led her under the spray, folded her into his arms as the hot water drenched them both, extinguishing the assortment of goosebumps that had been scattered along her skin all evening. He pulled the glass door shut, trapping them in the confined space and conserving the growing warmth, the billowing steam. She still shuddered, twined her arms around his slick frame and pressed against his body until there wasn't a fraction of space left between them.

For a few minutes, they remained that way. Castle ran his hands up and down her back, following the stream of water sluicing down her vertebrae before moving against the downpour when his fingers trailed back up.

He raked his hand through her hair next, catching a few loose strands that made a web between his fingers and sticking them to the shower wall until he could glide his fingers through her soaked mane without issue. He was considering washing it too, massaging her scalp as he worked the shampoo through her hair, but she had other ideas – lasciviously opening her mouth against his neck, coasting her palms down his side, and canting her hips forward.

"You promised to warm me up?" she hummed against the underside of his jaw.

He grinned, but nodded in agreement. "And I intend to keep that promise."

He hesitated though. They had sex in his shower quite regularly and it usually tended to involve pressing her against the wall, and despite the humidity clouding around them and likely clinging to every surface in his bathroom, he knew it would still be a cool temperature. He couldn't imagine touching her naked back to the chilled tile.

"Rick?"

They should have done this in the Jacuzzi tub instead.

He ignored the gentle look of concern swirling in the murky depths of her eyes and slipped a hand between them, past the flat plain of her stomach, down to the wet heat pooling between her legs. Her eyes fluttered shut as his fingers glided through her arousal, drawing the moisture up to circle over her clit, making her rise on her tiptoes to meet his touch.

Kate's leg hooked at his calf and Castle withdrew his hand so he could aid in lifting her, smirking at the way she skillfully used her other foot to hop into his arms. Even with her arms and legs twined tightly around him, the water cascading down their skins had her slipping and Castle wrapped an arm at the middle of her back, attempted to use his forearm as a barrier between her skin and the wall.

"Castle," she huffed, finally understanding his earlier apprehension and current precaution. "It's fine."

Her shoulders pressed back into the wall as she rolled her hips forward and he grunted when one of her hands managed to reach between them and wrap around his length. He gave in, gripped her thighs for support to keep them both from crashing to the ground.

Her ankles locked secure at his lower back, he slid into with ease thanks to the water and her own arousal, and her back arched off the wall almost immediately.

"You're good," she gasped, her forehead dropping down onto his, the wet ends of her hair coasting over the edges of his collarbones and creating a dark curtain around their faces. "Good at warming me up."

He choked on a laugh as they moved, cupped her ass and thrust upwards just a little more insistently to hear her moan. She spread her fingers at his jaw as the others weaved through his hair, her breath already coming in short, sharp bursts that fanned against his lips, and he tipped his face upwards to touch his mouth to the parted, pink flesh.

"Love you, Kate," he murmured thoughtlessly and she clenched hard around him without warning, the velvet heat of her walls drawing him too close to the edge.

Her neck craned forward, her lips swooping in to cover his in a possessive kiss that swallowed his groan as he spilled inside her, feeling her own body come undone around him seconds later.

His knees threatened to buckle a few seconds later and she startled when he shifted to keep them from sliding down the slick wall. Her head lifted from his shoulder as her legs unlocked from around his waist, slowly slipped downwards so that the balls of her feet touched the ground and she could support her weight on shaky legs. But she kept her arms laced at his neck, her chest sealed against his, and turned her lips to brush the shell of his ear, evoking a shiver that only added to the tremors of the orgasm still rippling with aftershocks up his spine.

"Warmer?" he managed to breathe out and she nodded, lazily tilting her head back and blinking up at him through the still streaming water that had a congregation of drops hanging from her lashes.

"Thoroughly heated," she husked, her voice still dripping with sex and she needed to stop that or a repeat performance would be happening sooner than his body was prepared for.

"Can I turn this off?" He cocked his head towards the shower and she nodded, already reaching for the silver handle of the door as he spun the nozzle towards the off setting.

He stepped out behind her, accepted the towel she handed him with a blissed-out smile, and grabbed an extra one from the rack to run through her dripping hair.

He focused intently on squeezing the remaining water out and getting her wet strands as dry as possible. She acquiesced him, waiting until he was satisfied with his efforts to slip his sweatshirt back on over her head, but she left the pants and the socks on the counter. He retrieved a new pair of boxers and a t-shirt, but forewent pants as well, like he normally would. This was just another night spent between them, they didn't have to change their routines simply because they had nearly frozen to death.

Castle quickened his step to meet her under the warmth of their blanket mountain.

Her hair still soaked through his pillow when they returned to his bed, but he didn't mind, merely continued combing his fingers through the damp locks from his place beside her. She was on her back, her knees a hill under the comforter, and he was propped on his elbow next to her, attempting to read the blank expression on her face.

"How're your hands?" she asked softly, catching the one tracing hypnotic patterns around her navel.

He shrugged. "Fine, not much change yet."

She frowned and lowered his hand to rest flat over the middle of her chest.

"Kate?"

She didn't answer, just tugged until he collapsed from his elbow and she could turn into him, melding the surfaces of their skins and twining their limbs until they were irreparably tangled.

"I'm just glad you're okay," she whispered to the hollow of his throat and he murmured his assent.

"Me too."

* * *

Rick awoke briefly in the dark from a nightmare, cold sweat layering his skin and an icy panic coiling in his stomach, but her arm squeezed at his waist and he felt her body pressed snugly against his back, her cheek between his shoulder blades and her legs twisted between his. They were in bed, both alive, not dead ice sculptures in a freezer. He covered the arm slung over his ribs, fell back to sleep to the soft rise and fall of her chest against him.


	11. Chapter 11

"So your place or mine for the night?" he asked with a devious smile as he held her coat up for her.

A delighted little tremor scrambled up her spine at the question while she slid her arms through, at the certainty that they'll be together for the night even though it was such a regular occurrence now, but she actually had a different plan in mind and she didn't think it would be too difficult to convince him to come along.

"Actually, Forbidden Planet is playing at the Angelika and I wanted to catch tonight's showing."

"Forbidden Planet," he echoed, a strange note of curiosity to his voice. "Is, uh, is that the one with the robot?"

Her eyes widened at the confusion in his tone. No way, this movie _screamed_ Castle, it was right up his alley. There was no way he hadn't seen it.

"You've never seen Forbidden Planet?" she asked and he shrugged, shook his head.

"More of a Star Wars, Matrix guy myself."

Oh, she had to remedy this. Her partner needed this movie in his life. She could already picture his eyes lighting up with wonder and his mouth falling open in awe.

"Oh, my gosh. Babe, this is the movie that inspired those two. That's it, I'm taking you. My treat."

"Ooh Beckett, treating me to a movie date. Can I have candy _and_ popcorn?" he husked in her ear and she smirked, nudging him off when he lingered too long after smoothing her hair from inside the collar of her coat.

"Sure. Oh, Castle, you're going to love this. This is Leslie Nielsen before he became a comic genius," she gushed, so inexplicably giddy to witness him experience one of her favorite films.

"Really?" he grinned, seeming to feed from her excitement as they walked to the elevators together.

"Yeah," she grinned back. It was silly, but they had never actually gone to the movies together and maybe she was a little excited about that too, about sitting with him in the dark, sharing popcorn and hushed commentary, maybe a kiss or two if he didn't enjoy the movie as much as she hoped.

"Can we sit in the back and make out too?"

She huffed, ducked her head to hide the heat of her cheeks behind her hair because how did he know?

"No, I want you to enjoy the movie," she insisted and when she glanced back up at him, he suddenly looked somewhat indecisive.

"Okay, so, maybe I lied..." he hedged and she slipped her hand from his, placed both on her hips as she quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Oh?"

"Well, for the sake of making out with you in a theater, I _may_ have seen Forbidden Planet before," he admitted and she _knew_ it, she knew him and she would bet he had probably seen this film as many times as she had. "Is our date off?"

"No," she quipped, stepping out of the elevator as the doors opened for them. "But any potential for a make out session in the back row probably is."

"_Kate_," he whined, trailing after her down the sidewalk to where her Crown Vic was parked. "I came clean, I was honest with you. Honesty is good. Honesty deserves reward."

"Not when the honesty had to be coerced from the liar," she smirked, unlocking her vehicle and waiting patiently for him to drag his feet across the concrete to reach the passenger side.

"Although loathe to admit it, I admire your morals," he grumbled, tugging his door open and slipping in the car with her. "And your love for amazing movies. It adds to the hotness."

She shook her head, put the car in drive and pulled out of her parking spot, eased into the flow of traffic heading towards the Angelika, that excited flicker in her chest still strong.

Despite her words from earlier, they still found seats in the back of the theater and he still managed to tease a kiss from her within the first half hour. By the second, he had 'accidentally' dropped their large popcorn and moved his hand to her knee, progressively sliding up, up, up to the apex of her thighs where she trapped his treacherous fingers.

"Castle," she muttered in warning, but he only wiggled his hand, his pinky brushing the seam of her slacks and causing her spine to stiffen.

"What if I earn your forgiveness?" he murmured as he leant in closer to her, his nose brushing along the shell of her ear.

"Definitely not here," she shot back, but she was already a little breathy and her response lacked the authority it needed to make him stop. Instead, it only encouraged him.

Her thighs were clenched around his hand, trapping it from wandering, but he could still move and the jerk of his fingers pressing against her through her pants had her muscles loosening, her legs spreading just slightly.

It was all he needed.

They were going to kicked out of the damn movie theater.

His hand deftly unbuttoned her slacks, slipped inside to palm the warm skin of her lower abdomen and she couldn't resist dropping her head to his shoulder, her view of the grand screen in front of them already going hazy.

* * *

They got kicked out of the theater.

"They didn't see our faces," he assured her, trying to keep up as she briskly strode away from the Angelika and back to the parking garage across the street, but her cheeks failed to cool in the chilly night air, her skin on fire, half embarrassment, half arousal, because she had not been allowed to _finish._

"Kate, I'm sorry. Truly. I didn't mean to humiliate you or make you feel cheap," he went on, mistaking her silence and quick pace for anger, but she just wanted to get to the car, _needed _to get to the car. "I was being an idiot-"

They entered the parking garage and she finally reached her cruiser in just a few, long steps. He had paid forty dollars for two hours worth of parking time and they had barely spent one. She knew how to pass at least a few more minutes.

"Kate?"

She wrenched open the backdoor and shoved him inside, climbing in after him once he had managed to sit up, and slamming the door behind her, pounding her fist on the lock.

"You're not-"

"Castle, shut up and finish what you started," she growled, swinging a leg over his lap and sinking down, crushing her mouth to his and rocking hard into his body.

His hips jerked in surprise and he quickly unbuckled his belt, slid his zipper down, and repeated the same actions with her haphazardly buttoned slacks, pushed them down her thighs until she could slip them off with her heels and felt his hands on her bare skin.

She shoved her tongue in his mouth, swallowed the groan that rolled from his lips and onto hers when she freed him through the slit of his boxers. Allowing him to hold her by the hips, keeping her steady, she inched the damp satin of her panties to the side, held them out of the way, and guided him inside.

Kate expelled a breath against his neck as she slid down, taking him deeper until his length filled her entirely and she dropped her head to his shoulder for just a moment to adjust. And then she moved, shifted her hips, seeking that delicious friction, gasping when she realized he had unbuttoned her shirt just enough to slip his hand inside her teal blouse.

A high-pitched mewling sound slipped out of her throat when his fingers pulled the cups of her bra down and alternated between both of her nipples, tweaking the taut peaks and making her head spin. His other hand remained at her back, encouraging the motion of her lower half as she rode him, lifting on her knees only to sink back down with a twist of her hips that sent his teeth clashing into the ridge of her collarbone.

The fingers of her unoccupied hand curled tightly into the fabric at his shoulders as her head tilted back and his lips traveled to her neck just before he unexpectedly hauled her body closer, grinding their pelvises together, sandwiching her already sensitized bundle of nerves. Their fast, sloppy rhythm fell apart as she finally lost control, her spine bowing forward as the bursts of electricity fissured through her system.

The gripping squeeze of her inner muscles had him pouring hotly inside her seconds later and she slumped against him boneless as he relaxed back against the seat with his hands still clutching her hips. Her cheek was flat against his clavicle and she waited until the city lights outside the parking garage weren't so blurry before she lifted her head.

He was grinning, his neck still reclined into the cracked leather, his knees pressing into the back of the front seat, and she rolled her eyes but still leaned forward to nip playfully at the upturned lips.

"Hadn't done that in awhile," he murmured dazedly.

She huffed, flicked his ear. "We did it a few weeks ago in your Ferrari."

"Mm, I like the Ferrari better, but I could have you anywhere and it'd still be so good, Beckett," he hummed contently, sated and drowsy, and her nose scrunched, either in flattery or distaste, she wasn't positively sure.

"Well, that's… kind of sweet, I guess."

She maneuvered her legs off of him, attempted to adjust her underwear before giving up and slipping them off, tucking them inside the inner pocket of his blazer instead.

"Yep, I'm definitely in love with you," he nodded to himself while she tipped her hips up to pull her pants back on and she couldn't help the laugh that escaped.

She buttoned her shirt and ran her fingers through her hair, attempting to make herself presentable, or at least like she hadn't just had sex in the back of a car.

"C'mon lover boy, I'm starving now."

* * *

"Hey Alexis," he called, playfully swinging their clasped hands between them as they stepped inside the loft. "We brought dinner if you're hungry."

He was such a girl, practically exuding an afterglow ever since they had exited the parking garage and driven to their favorite Chinese restaurant. But even though she rolled her eyes and shook her head at him, it was kind of adorable.

"In that case, I wouldn't mind a bite."

Castle froze and Kate stumbled into his side, her eyes involuntarily widening at the sight of his ex-wife lounging comfortably on his couch with a mischievous little smirk on her lips. Alexis was in the armchair across the room, looking to both of them helplessly, and Kate shook Castle's hand off, tilted her head towards the kitchen.

The girl gladly rose from her seat at the silent call and made her way across the living room.

"What is she doing here?" Castle hissed, but Alexis threw her hands up in exasperation.

"She just dropped in while you guys were out," his daughter explained in a whisper as she followed them into the kitchen.

Meredith seemed to know they were talking about her, but looked as if she didn't mind one bit. Actually, she appeared pleased to be the center of attention and Kate clenched her fist around the bag of food before letting it hit the marble surface of the bar with a thump. Castle glanced to her warily, his glow from earlier completely gone.

"She didn't try to kidnap you, did she?" he asked Alexis and his daughter shook her head.

"She just said she wanted to see me, that's all the explanation I got," she murmured and Castle pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger before taking a deep breath and stepping towards the living room.

"Meredith," she listened to him greet.

"Kate?" Beckett turned her gaze to Alexis, noticed the strange anxiety creeping in the girl's eyes. "I think I may know why Meredith is here."

Beckett propped her hip against the counter and waited for Alexis to gather the courage to continue.

"I swear I didn't say anything, but I think she found out about you and Dad somehow. She has friends here, maybe they noticed something? I don't know, but she does this any time he has a relationship that lasts more than a month," Alexis explained, twirling the ring on her left hand nervously.

"So not often then?" Kate joked, actually easing the tension in his daughter's shoulders.

"No," she answered with a small smile.

"She didn't come around last year," Kate countered quietly, flicking her eyes across the room to see Rick and Meredith arguing in hushed tones and grit teeth. "Your dad and I were together for nearly a year then."

Alexis chewed on her lip and Kate winced at the habit she had passed along. "Maybe you're right. But why else?"

"Maybe she wanted to see you?"

Alexis scoffed, crossing her arms and shaking her head at the notion. "Least likely scenario."

Kate sighed under her breath. Alexis had confided in her about her feelings towards her mother in the past and she knew Castle's daughter held some bitterness towards the woman, not that she could blame her. She called her by her first name after all, it didn't get much more impersonal. But it made her chest ache, because even though Meredith was physically alive, Alexis had lost her mother long ago.

Kate had never attempted to fill the role Meredith had abandoned, knew it was something she could never be for Alexis and would never try for it either, but she had always understood the hurt that paled Alexis' crystal blue eyes whenever reminders of the parent she was lacking came up, and she had become accustomed to comforting the girl any time she could.

"Here," Kate said, untying the bag of food and handing her the container she knew held Alexis' order. "I'm starving and our food's going cold."

Alexis grinned up at her demurely, but accepted the takeout box and crawled into one of the seats on the bar, her back to her parents.

* * *

Kate knew he hadn't slept with his ex-wife since the near beginning of their partnership, over two years ago, but she still felt a twinge of jealousy at Meredith's persistent presence and how she ended up having her way, spending the night in Castle's guest bedroom upstairs.

Kate was taking off her father's watch, slipping her mother's chain from around her neck, when Rick entered his bedroom.

"Hey," he said cautiously, but she only arched an eyebrow.

"Is Meredith all settled?"

"Kate, I don't like it either-"

"Then why say yes?" she huffed, attempting to keep her temper down. "There are a plethora of hotels she has to choose from."

"As much as I don't personally enjoy Meredith's company, she _is _Alexis' mother. And even though Alexis is less than thrilled to see her, I have a hard time telling her no when she points out that she's here to see her daughter," he explained, scrubbing at his face with his hands.

"Sure that's the only person she's here to see?"

She regretted it the moment she said it, pursed her lips and sighed apologetically, but Rick persisted, coming up to stand beside her at his dresser.

"You know that ended, a _long _time ago-"

"I do know," she mumbled, fidgeting with the top button of her blouse.

"But you don't like having a woman I used to have casual sex with in our home?"

She ignored the _our_ in that statement. It was too soon for him to be saying things like that, but she didn't want to overanalyze it and risk sending her mind into a potentially dangerous spiral.

"No," she concluded.

"This will be the last time it happens, Kate," he promised her, curling a hand at her nape and pressing soothing fingers to the tense muscles bunched underneath her skin.

She hummed in contentment before turning to face him, placing her hands on the strong bones of his hips.

"When we're married-"

"When?" he whispered and she squeezed at his hips, tugged him in closer.

"When," she confirmed quietly. "_When_ we are married, none of your ex-wives are shacking up here for any reason."

"Got it," he nodded earnestly, but with a smile creeping onto his lips. "It'll just be you, me, Alexis, and my mother. One big pea pod."

She laughed and lifted her arms to tangle around his neck instead, swaying them slowly in the dim lighting in his bedroom.

"Sounds pretty good to me."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Just in case you haven't read it, this chapter contains minor spoilers for a certain scene in Richard Castle's _Heat Rises._**

* * *

Kate had forgotten all about scheduled Castle's poker night with the fellow mystery novelists that evening. The men usually had these gatherings every few months when their schedules miraculously coincided and she knew Rick looked forward to them, but he never minded if she hung around during the events. She had a feeling he enjoyed having 'the real Nikki Heat' around to show off to his buddies, even though she made sure he received the death glares she sent him any time he attempted to speak of her as a prize.

The fellow authors usually found their relationship more amusing than anything, always teasing Castle about life imitating art and how he should abandon the mystery genre for romance novels. The older men would tend to flirt with her as well, aiming to get a rise out of Castle and throw him off his game – which always worked – and as she walked down the hall of his floor, she realized she was looking forward to seeing the batch of writers again. But when she inserted her key to unlock the front door, she was met with an unfamiliar poker attendee, Alex Conrad, attempting to make a hasty getaway at the same time.

"Sorry, Detective Beckett," he apologized at the near run in, but his brow was furrowed and his eyes were downcast as if he was intently trying not to look at her.

"Hey, is everything okay?" she asked in light concern. The amateur novelist looked a little frazzled and she had a bad feeling about what had gone on inside the loft with Castle and his buddies.

"Yeah, I just - I don't think I should have joined in on poker night," he explained tightly, scraping a hand through his already tousled hair, appearing thoroughly embarrassed.

"That bad?"

"Could have been worse." He shrugged. "I simply believe my real reason for being invited here was to be taught a lesson by Mr. Castle. Stay away from his muse," he chuckled before bidding Beckett a goodnight.

Kate huffed at the behavior portrayed by grown men, particularly one stupid man, and heaved Castle's front door open, strode inside ready to teach him a lesson of her own.

"Richard Castle," she said his name like she would when he was in trouble, like the time she had arrested him, and the laughs from the living room immediately died down.

"Oh. Hey… honey," he answered sheepishly when she came to stand in front of him at the poker table.

She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Guess who I just ran into?"

His eyes widened and she could tell he knew she was onto him and what he had done.

"Umm, well," he stumbled through bits of a sentence. "I don't know, could have been anyone-"

Kate stepped around the table, settled comfortably into the seat Alex Conrad had previously occupied, and picked up his abandoned set of cards. Castle was talented at poker, but she was a worthy opponent and if he wanted embarrassment, she would give it to him.

"Don't mind if I join in, right guys?" she addressed the other two men at the table with a seductive smile and a deliberately slow blink of her lashes.

Lehane and Connelly quickly nodded their assent while Rick glared at her from across the table.

She was going to demolish him.

* * *

Kate waited until Connelly was finally out the door to saunter up behind Castle, lace her arms around his neck.

"You are ruthless," he huffed, defying his statement by dropping his chin to his chest, brushing a kiss to her wrist.

"I was just showing you how it feels," she hummed into the back of his neck, waiting until his hand reached around to touch her hip to relinquish her hold on him. "You shouldn't have done that to Conrad."

"Done what?" he questioned innocently, turning around to lean back against the door in an act of nonchalance. "It was just some friendly hazing."

Kate narrowed her eyes on him. "To hear him describe it, it sounds like someone was trying to teach him a lesson."

"What?" he laughed a little too loudly. "Why would I want to do that?"

She stepped closer, her crossed arms a barrier between them. "Because you didn't want him to spend time with me."

"That is completely-"

"_True_," she supplied and Castle went strangely quiet for a moment, the playful cluelessness falling away and a frustrated expression contorting his face instead.

"Yes. Fine. It's true, I'm jealous," he admitted, purposely not looking at her. "There, I said it. I – I want you all to myself, and to have you spending time with another man, another writer, doing things that only you and I do together, that upsets me, and if that makes me the petty, jealous boyfriend, so be it. Guilty as charged."

The lasting hints of irritation drained from her, leaving empathy in its wake. She sometimes forgot Castle was the kind of man who needed reassurance. Under all the feigned arrogance and false devil-may-care mannerisms, he had his moments of self-doubt and a fair share of trust issues. She had always painted herself as the unsteady one in this relationship, but in times like these, it occurred to her that they were equals in most areas – the good and the bad.

"Actually, I kind of think it's sweet," she sighed softly.

His eyes cleared, brow arcing upwards from its creased position in gentle surprise.

"You do?"

"I do," she nodded. "But Rick, you have to know that there's no one else, not for me. No man, no writer, and I don't want you ever thinking otherwise," she pressed, allowing her hands to reach for his waist, slipping up to splay along his torso. "You're it for me. There's never going to be anyone else."

"Well," he murmured, pleasant delight etching into his features, coloring his eyes a warm cerulean. "That was worth being embarrassed by Nikki Heat in front of Lehane and Connelly."

She grinned, rocking forward on the balls of her feet when he caught her by the hips and leant forward to kiss her.

"So no more writers shadowing you?"

She shook her head.

"I am a one writer girl."

He nuzzled his nose in her hair. "Good because even if Conrad is my mentee, I don't like him bringing you muffins," he grumbled and she rolled her eyes, pinched the soft skin of his ear between her fingers.

"Ryan's brought me cronuts before and you've never had a problem with that."

"That's different," he said matter-of-factly. "Ryan doesn't want to sleep with you."

"Neither does Alex," she countered coolly. "Unlike you, he was not attempting to get in my pants while learning about police procedural work."

"I was never-"

She pinched his ear harder and he whined, lifted out of her grasp.

"Don't even deny it, Castle."

"Fine," he grunted, rubbing scornfully at his ear. "I wanted to sleep with you from the day you walked into my book party."

She smirked at the begrudging tone of his admission and brushed her lips over his in reward before whispering, "Me too."

* * *

Ever since she had essentially given him permission to ask her again, Castle had been attempting to plan the perfect proposal. He needed to get it just right this time. No room for screw-ups or bad timing.

She had the upcoming Saturday off and Rick had organized a dinner for the weekend at her favorite restaurant. It would be small and intimate, just like she had always wanted. He had rehearsed how the night would go in his head multiple times, and he actually thought everything would go perfectly according to plan.

Until Mike Royce was killed and any ideas of engagements and marriage were immediately put on hold as he saw her heart crumble at the sight of her dead friend.

Montgomery had her off the case by the very first day, yet they still ended up on a plane to Los Angeles together to investigate the murder themselves hours later.

"Two bedrooms?" she asked curiously once they had been led to their suite in the extravagant hotel he hadn't been able to resist treating her to. They may be in LA for murder, but they could still indulge in a few of the city's perks, right?

Castle shrugged as he sat their bags down on the pristine white couch in the middle of the room. "I just figured… After what happened with Royce, if you wanted to be alone…"

A small smile flickered across her lips as she drifted towards him.

"That's sweet," she murmured on a quiet sigh, curling her fingers absentmindedly around the collar of his shirt and smoothing her thumb over the fabric. "But I don't want to do this alone, too."

"Then you won't," he answered quickly. "Do you want me to downsize us to a single room, because I can. I-"

"Castle," she chuckled, shaking her head softly at him. "This is fine. We'll use the extra bedroom as a headquarters for our investigation."

"Good plan," he conceded with a nod. "But can we still go to that couple's massage later today because-"

"Castle. We're here for justice."

He sighed mournfully as she swiped a kiss from his lips before turning on her heel and striding into their new 'headquarters'.

Maybe LA wouldn't be as fun as he had hoped.

* * *

Montgomery had effortlessly caught on to their plans within the same afternoon and by nightfall, the forbidden quest for justice had Beckett exhausted. She was laid across the couch, her head on his thigh while they stared mindlessly at the reality show playing on the television.

"I can't believe that I'm never going to see him again," she murmured suddenly, picking at the material of his jeans with her fingers.

That sadness she had been repressing since the day before, since witnessing Royce's body at the crime scene, was slowly seeping out of her, spreading along them both like a suffocating blanket, and he knew it was normal, healthy even, but he hated seeing the grief course through her. It was his instinct to try to help.

"You know what I thought when I first met you," he asked quietly, combing his fingers through her hair even though it tended to annoy her.

"Hmm?" she replied without moving.

"That you were a mystery I was never going to solve," he admitted with a soft smile, tracing the shell of her ear with his thumb. "Even now, after spending all this time with you, after… everything we've been through together, I'm still amazed at the depths of your strength, your heart, and your hotness."

She turned her face into his knee, nipped teasingly at his patella through his jeans.

"You're not so bad yourself, Castle," she said, rotating onto her back and staring up at him with a small grin and dark eyes. "Hey, I have an idea."

Kate heaved herself up from the cushion of his lap and off of the couch. Castle watched her trot across the suite towards the bar in the corner.

"Kate," he said with a warning in his voice.

She waved him off as she returned to the sofa with a bottle of tequila in hand. "Calm down, Castle. Just thought we'd play a little drinking game."

"Hoping to reenact a certain scene from _Heat Wave_?" he smirked.

"Or inspire a new one," she threw back, sitting cross-legged beside him and filling two shot glasses with the shimmering brown liquid.

"Considering I am in need of a good sex scene for Heat Rises, this could definitely work in my favor," he grinned, but she rolled her eyes.

"No one said anything about this ending in sex," she quipped, but Castle huffed at her in amusement.

"Doesn't it always between you and I, Detective?" he asked with a wiggle of his eyebrows that made her chuckle. "So what kind of game are we playing here?"

She settled her pursed lips against her fist for a moment in contemplation and then snatched the _Vanity Fair _magazine that was resting on the coffee table. "There are these standard questionnaire things in here," she explained as she flipped through the pages. "We can ask each other questions. You take too long to answer or decide to pass on a question, you drink."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Interesting. But I'm not in the mood to get drunk, not when we have to be up early tomorrow," he added, attempting to be nonchalant about it, because in all reality, it was her he didn't want drunk. Not tonight. Not when she was still mourning Royce and feeling defeated in her investigation.

He knew if she indulged too heavily in the alcohol, it would only leave her miserable and that was the last thing he wanted.

"What do you propose as a substitute?" she inquired, toying with her untouched glass and skimming over the questions in the magazine.

"Clothing," he supplied with ease. "For each question you fail to answer, you lose an item of clothing."

"Like strip poker?"

He shrugged. "Call it what you will."

She hummed her approval. "I can't see a real downside to this."

"Exactly."

Kate read the list of questions aloud, and they started out easy enough –_ Name your favorite hero in literature. Who's your favorite poet? What is your motto? _- "Really? Who has a motto?" he demanded incredulously, but she was quick to reply with the phrase she had taken from her mother and he ended up losing his plaid shirt first. But the questions began to grow a little too serious for their lighthearted game at times, both of them using the option to pass more than once, and within half an hour, she was in only her underwear while he was left in nothing but his socks.

"What is your ideal dream of earthly happiness?" she asked quietly, keeping her eyes downcast to the page in her lap.

"You first," he murmured, already slipping his socks from his feet because he knew his answer to this one, and he had a feeling she did too.

Kate wordlessly set the magazine down on the table and drew her panties down her legs. He held her by the hips when she rose over him on her knees, capturing his face in her hands and slanting her lips over his.

"This," she whispered into his mouth as his hands roamed her naked skin. "This, this, this."

Castle tugged her down and they both maneuvered their bodies into a horizontal position on the couch. He felt her let go of the burdening weight Royce's death had bestowed upon her and give into the hungry rhythm of their bodies instead.

"This is definitely going in the book," he panted between kisses and she nipped hard at his bottom lip, but he still felt triumphant when her lips spread into a grin.

* * *

_**A/N: **Thank you Laura for your brainstorming brilliance on this one._


	13. Chapter 13

She had actually thought they were going to make it.

She had actually believed that she would be able to step away from her mother's murder and have a life, a life with Castle that could be easy and untroubled, but it was a foolish fantasy. Her mother's case would follow her until she was in the ground herself.

Castle was never supposed to be so deeply involved and a part of her would always resent her captain for calling him that night, for putting Rick in a position that he had never deserved to be in. Carrying her out of the hangar kicking and screaming, knowing her mentor was about to sacrifice himself. But she had still allowed him to hold her against her cruiser in the parking lot, had allowed him to brush back her hair and whisper apologies and understandings into the breath of space between them, to quiet her with the hard but welcome press of his lips when she just couldn't stop crying.

"Just stay with me," he had breathed into her mouth through the symphony of gunfire that had filled the air. And she had gripped his jacket in her fists, held onto him like she was drowning until the final shot was fired and he allowed her to finally return to the scene of sacrificial suicide, to touch her trembling hands to Montgomery's lifeless body and mourn the loss of her captain, her friend.

He had whispered the same to her that night in her bed, when she tried to lock herself away in the bathroom, and he whispered the same to her now as he hovered above her, supporting her neck in the cradle of his palm while the other fumbled over her ribs, looking for the entry wound, trying to stop all the blood from seeping out of her body.

"Stay with me, Kate. I love you. You know how much I love you. Don't leave me, please."

She didn't want to. She wanted to reach for him, but attempting to lift her arm ended in the limb barely making it off the carpet of brilliant green grass before it helplessly tumbled back to her side. She caught a glimpse of the crimson stains on her white gloves through the corner of her vision and realized it may be even worse than it felt.

And it felt excruciating.

Her chest was caving in – her lungs deflating, her ribs curling inwards like spider legs, her heart shriveling into nothing. Her heart was giving up and the darkness at the edges of her vision was moving in at a dizzying speed.

"Kate," he called her back to him when she hadn't even realized she'd been drifting away.

He looked kind of beautiful, angelic even, with the canvas of magnificent blue sky behind him and the sun winking at her from over his shoulder, outlining him and making it appear as though he was glowing.

She barely felt his tears stain her cheek, barely felt her own leaking into her hair and how he wiped them away with the so soft sweep of his bloodstained thumb.

"Stay with me, okay?"

She wanted to nod, wanted to stay with him in the sun. But the darkness was already seeping into her limbs, stealing feeling from her fingers and her legs, taking everything until he was the center of her tunneling vision.

She wanted to stay.

The pain began to recede into nothing, the sounds of chaos around them growing muffled, and he was disappearing from her sight before she could stop the slow closing of her eyelids.

She couldn't.

* * *

She could not recall with much clarity the first few times she awoke, not really. All she could remember was the savage clutch of panic because there was a strange tube down her throat and she couldn't _breathe_ because she was choking on whatever they had shoved down her esophagus. But Castle was there, letting her pierce his forearm with her nails as a doctor guided the tube from her throat. She had vomited into a bucket with tears streaming down her cheeks, the fierce fist of pain consuming her chest in blazing agony, and Castle had delicately wiped the moisture from her neck when she was finally allowed to lie back down.

"You're okay, Kate," she remembered him saying to her as her eyelids began to droop. She had wanted to talk to him, if only for just a moment, but her vocal cords were shredded and everything ached so sharply, she could only smooth her fingertips over the crescent marks she had left in his arm.

Castle kissed her fingers, her wrist, and kept their hands intertwined when he lowered himself back down to the plastic chair beside her bed.

"Just keep breathing and you won't have to go back on the vent," he'd instructed her gently. She'd taken a short breath through her parted lips at that, felt the fire rain down on her lungs like glass shards. But like hell she was going back on a ventilator.

"You're going to be okay," was the last thing he had said, and she had mentally winced at how rough his voice had sounded, scraped raw like hers probably was. He likely hadn't slept since… however long she had been here. Hours, days, she hadn't been sure, but she wished she could have scooted over in the bed, made room for him to curl up next to her. Maybe he could have eased some of the pain, the burning.

Instead, she tilted her head towards him on the overly starched pillow, wanting to keep her eyes on him as she fell back into the soothing arms of sleep.

* * *

The second time she woke to the too bright room with the overwhelming scent of bleach and sanitizer, he wasn't there and for a moment, she panicked, because she had just seen him die in her dreams. The images too vivid to be faked, but the pulverizing throb in her chest quickly jerked her back into reality, reminded her she was the one shot in the real world. And she was so grateful.

"The nightmares are probably the worst part of the morphine," the nurse at her bedside informed her sympathetically and Kate tried not to startle at the unknown presence. "But hopefully we won't have to keep you on it too long."

The nurse checking her IV offered her tiny sips of water that felt glorious trickling down her throat, and then she asked her a question Kate failed to register, something about 'her boyfriend' and 'camped outside'. They must have her on some heavy medication. She was hardly feeling anything, unless she breathed.

When she breathed, the crack in her chest widened and the pain washed over her in waves of stinging agony that never seemed to end.

"Rick, right? You were crying his name," she mentioned, but Beckett only blinked at the young woman in confusion. Oh, she meant in the dream. She quickly glanced down at her hands, turned them over in her lap, searching for traces of his blood, just in case. The visions flashing behind her eyelids were hazy, but still felt so real. He had bled out in her arms.

The nurse smiled at her, soft and pitiful, and stepped outside of the room for a moment, returning with Castle at her side. He looked ragged; his hair greasy, his skin pale, his entire body slumped even as he stood.

She wanted to reach for him, allow him to cradle her in his arms and mold his body around hers like he always did after facing a near death situation. She wanted him reassured that she was alive and still here, but she could hardly take a breath without feeling the razor's edge of pain slice through her chest.

Kate settled for tilting her head just slightly in indication and he was quickly stumbling to make it to her side.

"Kate," he breathed, broken and raspy, and she shakily lifted her hand to his cheek when he leaned over her, delicately pressing his forehead to hers. "Kate."

"I must look really bad," she rasped, swallowing hard because it _burned_ to speak. Her palm slipped down his cheek after only a handful of seconds, but he caught her fingers and held onto them even as he lowered their tangled hands to her side.

"No, no, you're beautiful," he whispered and the tears clogging his throat made her broken chest ache.

"Don't you ever jump in front of a bullet for me again," she slurred, the medication already dragging her back down, but she still remembered how he had dived for her, attempted to shield her with his own body, how he had barreled into her and the defeat in his eyes when he stared down at the blood staining her uniform. She still remembered the nightmare that crept at the edges of her mind, waiting to pounce on her again as she slept.

It would haunt her for a long time, the possibility that it could have been him lying in this hospital bed.

"No promises, Beckett," he replied and she attempted a growl, but whimpered when it made her sternum soar with pain.

"Go back to sleep," he said gently, cautiously stroking back the errant strands of hair from her face. "I'll be here when you wake up."

She made a breathless noise of agreement. "Better be."

* * *

She wasn't sure how much time had passed when she woke again, she was losing too much time in this damn hospital bed, but she found him at her side, just like he said he would be.

"Castle," she mumbled and he glanced up from the phone in his hand, brushed his thumb over her knuckles with the other. Her eyes darted to the water on the bedside table and he hustled to lift the cup and guide the straw to her lips.

Once she had managed a few sips and her throat was slick with the cool liquid, she asked, "Do we have any leads?"

Castle hesitated, taking his time in returning the cup to the bedside table. "Ryan and Espo are doing what they can," he hedged.

"So none then," she surmised quietly, swallowing down the sudden lump in her throat. It was hard, so hard, to entrust the life consuming investigation in someone else's hands, especially now. But she had promised him, promised herself.

"Beckett, I know how important this is," Rick began, nervously clasping his hands together on the edge of her hospital bed and she blinked to keep herself focused. "I know you need… But I can't let you throw yourself back into it. I can't-"

"Will you ask me again now?" she murmured the interruption, but it worked, stopped him midsentence.

Confusion held his eyes for only a moment before understanding broke free and he was smiling at her, a real smile that was unburdened by her injuries.

"When you're not so drugged up, baby," he chuckled and she scowled at him, scored her nails into his knuckles.

"Told you not to call me that," she muttered, feeling the drugs he was talking about tugging her back under, stealing her coherency again all too soon - she hated this, she wanted to be awake for more than five minutes - but she still caught the breath of Castle's laughter.

She clung to his hand tighter, like he could keep her afloat.

"You like it."

"Don't," she argued halfheartedly, because maybe she did. But only sometimes. "You'll ask me later?" she pressed before she could fall into the heavy sleep that would keep her away from him for too long.

"Yes, Kate," he promised, reaching forward to comb her hair back again until her eyes slid closed.

* * *

"What're you doing?" she groaned, still not completely awake, but feeling him at her side, his hands in her hair.

"Trying to fix this," he grumbled, concentration overtaking his voice. She was able to stay conscious for full days now, but she still indulged in a nap every now and then to escape the molten ache in her chest for a couple of hours. "There. Perfect French braid."

It had only been six days, but she still felt completely decimated. Her entire body in a constant state of agonizing rebellion, but Castle made for a pleasant distraction. He drove her crazy at times, with the hovering and the worrying, but she was selfishly glad he had remained in the hospital with her for the majority of the near week.

"Where would I be without you, Castle?" she teased, but her teeth grinded seconds later, the pain ricocheting around inside the cavity of her chest, and Castle eased away from her, murmuring about finding a nurse.

"No," she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut. It would pass, the intensity of the pain would pass. She just needed a second. "They'll up the dosage and then – won't let me free."

Beckett had managed to coax her doctor into feeding her body as little medication as possible, much to Castle's chagrin. She wasn't her dad, but she won't deny the existence of her addictive personality and she refused to take the risk, not without controlling it. She lied about her level of pain every day, even if the nurses saw through it, and she succeeded in receiving the minimal amount of drugs to tame the agony in her chest. And she paid for it daily.

"Kate-"

"Just..." She flattened her palm on the crisp sheets of the bed, curled her fingers into his when he covered her hand with his own. "Stay."

"Not going anywhere," he promised her, the same promise he made every day, gingerly taking a seat on the edge of her hospital cot.

The pain shot through her system like knives, touching every part of her - slicing open each section of her heart, puncturing her lungs, defiling her ribs. But when the worst of it had coursed through her system and resided into a dull roar between her bones, she was able to take a shaky breath and loosen her rigid posture, rest back against the bed.

Castle looked absolutely distraught every time she opened her eyes to him.

"Rick."

"Yes? What do you need?" he answered immediately, prepared to go to the ends of the earth for her if she asked.

"Kiss me," she murmured, watching his eyebrows inch upwards just slightly.

"What-"

"You haven't since I was shot and I want - just kiss me, Castle," she breathed, smiling and touching her fingers to the stubble on his chin when he hovered over her and brushed his warm lips against her brittle, chapped mouth.

She hummed when he drew her lower lip into his mouth, slowly laved his tongue across the dried flesh.

"Ahem."

Castle was startled by the cleared throat in the room's entryway, but didn't show it, very carefully withdrawing from her with one last chaste kiss that made her grin.

"Nice to see you both," Jim Beckett greeted with a smirk and Kate smiled warmly at her father coming through the door.

"Hey Dad."

Her father had been just as bad as Castle when it came to coddling her - or trying to - but she still felt her face light up every time he returned to her room.

"I just got back from the cabin, got it all patient proofed for you," he said, pride flickering in his eyes, and oh… she had yet to mention that to Castle. And by the way he looked to her in confusion with a hint of betrayal, she knew it was a mistake holding back the planned stay at her father's cabin from him.

"Dad, could you give us just a second?" she asked quietly, glancing to her father, who was already giving her that admonishing look she would receive as a child, but he exited the room as if he didn't know exactly what was going on.

"Castle-"

"You're going to stay at your father's cabin? And you didn't think to maybe mention it to me? Give me a heads up so I can pack?" he questioned, trying to sound casual about it, but she could hear the frustration bubbling under the surface.

"I was hesitant to tell you because I intend to go alone," she murmured, shifting her eyes to her hands before forcing them to return to his in apology.

His face twisted with hurt and then refusal.

"No."

"Castle, I need time to heal. I need-"

"No," he repeated, crossing his arms over his chest like a child. "I'm not letting you go alone."

"Castle, my dad will be there. It would just be for-"

"No," he protested again, stubbornly. "I am not spending another summer away from you, especially not like this."

She sighed, turning the hand on her knee palm up and lacing their fingers when he reluctantly settled his palm in hers. "I won't be easy to live with, Castle. I'll be difficult and a wreck and-"

"Kate."

She lifted her eyes and Castle smoothed his hand along her jaw, his warm palm soothing to her frigid skin.

"I don't expect it to be easy. We'll probably have some pretty spectacular fights, I'll hover too much, drive you crazy, but we'll move past all of that and it'll be okay," he assured her, placating her doubts and coaxing her into believing him all too easily. "We always are."

She bit her lip. She had made the decision to endure her recovery without him because she had feared attempting to handle it with him around would break them. She just _knew _she would say something wrong, something hurtful, not intentionally, but out of pain or frustration. She would push him away and evoke that wounded little boy look in his eyes that made her heart clench. And she didn't want to do that to him.

"Just let me be there."

She would have huffed a long sigh of defeat if her body could handle the repercussions.

"Okay," she mumbled and Castle brushed his lips across her temple in gratitude. And deep down, she realized she had already known she never would have done this alone. Even if she would have escaped to the cabin without Castle following her, she had little doubt that he would have shown up on her doorstep within the first 24 hours.

"We'll be okay, Kate," he swore to her softly, tracing the cool shell of her ear with his thumb. "You're going to be okay."

She exhaled slowly and knocked her forehead into his chin, rested there for a moment. It would be okay.


	14. epilogue

"Beckett, you're going to get sunburned," Castle huffed, plopping down beside her on the two-person lounge chair he had bought for her. She had been unable to even think of admonishing him when he'd had the outdoor furniture brought over and positioned on the deck in front of the lake, she enjoyed the luxury of being able to rest comfortably under the sun too much.

She rolled her eyes and wiggled her toes into the tanned skin of his upper thigh.

"I'm wearing a hat," she defended, smoothing her hand down the loose material of her peasant top. "And my chest is covered."

"Unfortunately."

She cracked an eye open to glare at him for that, but he only grinned in response. He had seen her bare chested plenty of times during her recovery and she had almost been embarrassed in the beginning. Allowing him to remove the bandages for her and see her bare when she felt the polar opposite of attractive had been harder than she would have expected. But he hadn't been phased by it, too intent on taking care of her and making sure she was healing properly. And it was clear he was still attracted to her despite seeing her at her worst. He made it clear all too often, unfairly so, since they still couldn't do anything about it yet.

"How're you feeling?" he asked, his tone growing more solemn, but one of his hands traipsed up her bare leg, skimmed the edge of her shorts.

"Okay," she answered honestly. She could feel the progress, but it didn't make recovering from a bullet wound to the chest much easier. She still hurt, still grudgingly needed support for simple tasks. She still had the nightmares, the panic attacks, telltale symptoms of post traumatic stress, but it was slowly becoming less of a challenge to calm herself after waking from her own screams in the night or jerking to the ground if a flash of light caught her eye at the wrong angle. It helped that Rick was there, that he was patient and understanding. She hated when he saw her so broken, so damaged, but at the end of the day, she was selfishly thankful he had spent the last month by her side.

Alexis had visited the week before at Kate's insistence. She talked to his daughter nearly every day on the phone with him, but Kate had the feeling Alexis had been afraid to see her. In the hospital, the younger woman had been tentative and cautious around her, as if she was scared to break her, and that apprehension had never left. But when his daughter spent a few days with them - swimming in the lake, going on a hike with Jim, lounging in the sun with a book beside Kate - Alexis had steadily let go of the fear and fallen back into the ease of what their friendship once was.

"I'm so glad you're getting better," she had told her at the end of the weekend, unexpected tears springing to her shimmering blue eyes as they stood on the porch while Castle loaded her bags into the car Alexis had used to drive herself out. "I don't know what we would have done if-" And Kate had hugged her before she could finish that particular sentence, hugged her tight even though it made her diaphragm spasm.

"Good thing you don't have to worry about that," Kate had assured her, stroking her fingers through her lengthening locks out of habit before easing out of Alexis' embrace to lean against the wall of the cabin for support.

"I hope we never have to worry about it again," she'd said lightly, but with a remaining darkness lurking in the corners of her eyes.

"No one can make that promise, Lex," she had murmured back with a sad smile. "But I'll do my best."

Alexis had nodded before she had squeezed Kate's hand. "That's all I ask."

Castle had hugged his daughter goodbye and the two of them had remained outside to watch as she had driven away.

"You good?" he had asked, noting the seriousness of the conversation he had likely witnessed on her father's front porch.

Kate had tilted into his side and let him hold her up while she habitually rubbed two fingers over the angry red flesh between her breasts.

"Thanks, for allowing me to become part of your family," she had whispered, tears she refused to allow stinging at her eyes. She blamed the medication she despised for leaving her emotions so utterly unbalanced.

Castle had pretended not to notice, merely kissed the top of her head.

"You're always welcome. Thanks for wanting to join."

Castle, Alexis, Martha, her dad and herself - they made a nice little family. One she hoped to expand someday soon.

"Thank you for the smoothie, by the way," she said, blinking away the memories of the prior week, the fantasies of the future, and nodding towards the empty glass on the ground beside her chair.

"Hope it prepared you for the real food your dad is bringing for dinner," he teased, caressing his thumb over her anklebone and she felt her stomach rumble in anticipation.

She could eat small portions of solid foods, but it usually had to be shredded, mashed, or liquidized for the most part. Tonight her dad had promised to pick up some 'normal' food from the nearest restaurant, and although she would likely still have to cut her meal into tiny pieces, it was progress.

"Don't get too overexcited," he warned with a hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. "Your heart's still trying to heal, don't want to overwhelm it."

She stuck her tongue out at him, just because she could, and because she enjoyed the way his eyes widened when she indulged in childishness every once in a while. But his eyes didn't grow alight with amusement this time and she tilted her head in concern.

"You okay?" she asked, reaching for him, and he nodded all too quickly, caught her fingers before she could bend forward.

"I'm great," he assured her, offering her hand a squeeze and a smile that was small but genuine before turning to stare out into the dark blue waters of the lake.

"You don't have to sit out here with me, you know," she murmured, leaning her head back against the chair, allowing the warmth of the sun to glide along the exposed skin of her shoulders.

"I know," he answered softly. She felt him rise from his place at her hip. "Hey, Kate?"

She realized her eyes had drifted closed and peeled them back open as she turned her head in the direction of his voice. Her damaged heart stuttered at the sight of him on one knee, a familiar engagement ring between his fingers, glittering in the sunshine as he held it up for her.

Her ring.

"If you want to wait-"

"No," she breathed, feeling the smile stretching taut across her lips. "We've waited long enough."

"Well then," he smiled back at her, gently stole her left hand from her side and brought it between them as she maneuvered herself to the edge of the chair. "Katherine Houghton Beckett, will you marry me?"

"Yes," she whispered, trapping her upturned bottom lip between her teeth as he slid the ring into place. She wiggled her hand, reveled in the odd but comforting weight on her fourth finger, and released a soft breath of laughter as she watched the humble assortment of diamonds glisten at the movement. "Help me up," she commanded while she tugged on his hand, surprised to hear her voice had turned raspy, but for once it wasn't out of pain.

Castle eased her upwards from the chair, made sure she had her footing on the wooden boards of the sturdy dock and placed his hands on her hips to keep her steady. Once she was standing, she kissed him, smeared her smile over his and pressed her palms to his cheeks, relishing in the day old stubble that scraped along her skin.

"That went so much better than last time," he breathed in relief against her lips and she couldn't help the laughter that stumbled out. It shook her chest and pulled at the healing muscles, but the happiness bubbling inside of her softened the usual blow of pain, made every dull stab of soreness worth it.

"I would have said yes eventually," she mumbled with a smirk, circling her thumbs over his biceps. And it was true; no matter the path they would have taken, the choices, mistakes, they had made - it would have eventually led them here, to this moment she had been looking forward to for a while now.

His hand slipped underneath the hem of her shirt, skimmed up the small of her back and splayed along the expanse of her skin.

"I'm just glad it wasn't the drugs or the hypothermia talking when you told me to ask you again," he chuckled, still nervous, and she pressed her cheek underneath his jaw, to the warm skin of his neck.

"I always loved you, Castle," she confessed, lips tugging upwards at the gentle hitch in his breathing. "Nothing, not even last summer, changed that. Nothing ever will."

* * *

**A/N: ****Thank you to all who stuck through this journey with me by reading, reviewing, favoriting, and following. I'd never expected this little series to receive such a warm welcome and I'll forever be blown away by the kindness shown to it, and to me.**

**And greatest of thank you's to Laura for reading over every chapter, talking me through all of my doubts, and encouraging me to never give up on a story.**

**Feedback is always appreciated.**


End file.
